Serpentkind
by corvusdraconis
Summary: [HG/SS] AU: Neville's nervous twitch causes a really severe potions explosion that hits his lab partner, Hermione Granger. Her life is drastically changed forever. [Completely Crack]
1. Scaly Beginnings

**Summary:** [HG/SS] AU: Neville's nervous twitch causes a really severe potions explosion that hits his lab partner, Hermione Granger. Her life is drastically changed forever. [Completely Crack]

 **A/N:** I blame Mulder AND Scully because… monsters!

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

* * *

 **Serpentkind**

 _Snakes are sometimes perceived as evil, but they are also perceived as medicine. If you look at an ambulance, there's the two snakes on the side of the ambulance. The caduceus, or the staff of Hermes, there's the two snakes going up it, which means that the venom can also be healing. - Nicolas Cage_

* * *

Neville trembled, his hands shaking as he tried to turn the pages of his potions book. He squinted to read the writing on the board, but he couldn't make out the words.

"Hey, did you need glasses?" Hermione asked, startling him.

"Whu-wha?" Neville meeped, almost leaving his chair.

"Easy, Neville," Hermione placated. She buried herself into her bookbag. "Which potion does the board say?"

Neville squinted at the board. "Uh—the ffff… frightening potion."

Hermione frowned. "I don't remember seeing that on our list for first years."

"That's what it is!" Neville yelled, raising his voice. "Why do you _always_ question me?"

Hermione pulled back. "Whoa! Alright. I can't see the board from here thanks to Crabbe and Goyle's bodies. I just wanted to make sure."

Neville pursed his lips.

"Look, I made the base already, okay, so it's your turn to start the potion off," Hermione said.

"You will make this potion _SILENTLY,_ Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor for being incapable of following basic instructions."

Hermione paled, biting her lip. She looked over to where Harry was beating Ron with a book to get him to pay attention. Everyone in the room seemed to be struggling. She'd learned the last time she tried to help anyone, she lost Gryffindor about twenty-five points before Harry and Ron and told her to shut the hell up. That, of course, caused Professor Snape to dock five points more from each of them, and the whole of Gryffindor thought it would be great if they magicked a gag over her mouth for the entire night. Professor McGonagall had found her, eventually, crying and gagged as she hid behind the sculptures.

Of course, when she'd asked what happened, Hermione had told the truth, and that caused McGonagall herself to take points from her own House, and most of Gryffindor hated her even more because of it. Since they couldn't outright beat on her, they'd taken to other sorts of ways of persuading her to keep her mouth shut— like kicking her kitten, trapping the little calico in the suits of armour in the hallway and blaming it on Peeves. Hermione had given her to Minerva, begging her to find her a better home— telling her that she wasn't safe to be around.

McGonagall had frowned, tried to reassure her, but eventually honoured her wishes, saddened that Hermione was so picked on in a way that even trying to punish the wrongdoers was just getting her more grief. Minerva had sought an audience with the Headmaster, and after a lengthy discussion, he had given her authorisation to give her a private quarters to retreat to. The room was connected to her own, so the chances of Hermione being bullied were far less— at least at night. There was nothing she could do about the day-to-day grudges.

Fortunately for Hermione, at least, her best friends were books, but there were times when Minerva did a little cognitive therapy of her own and sneaked into Hermione's lap as a tabby. Thankfully, thanks to an influx of suspiciously identical silver tabbies at Hogwarts, no one seemed to notice her, despite her distinctive spectacle-like markings. That was all fine and well for Minerva, and as an added bonus, Hermione was able to cuddle the Deputy Headmistress without guilt— as long as she treated her professor appropriately in public, anyway.

"Your potion isn't going to make itself, Mr Longbottom," Snape's voice causing all of Slytherin to turn and stare at the boy in question. "And Miss Granger, if I see you doing his work for him, it will be _another_ five points from Gryffindor."

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap and stared down at her book.

Neville nervously reached for Hermione's potions kit.

"Mr Longbottom, if you did not come prepared to class, you will lose more points for Gryffindor. At this rate, every House will be safely above yours, hrm?"

Neville frantically fumbled with his bag to pull out his potions kit, even more panicked as he realised his kit was missing. Hermione noticed that the Slytherin tables were whispering and chortling, passing something around. Her face twisted in conflict. If she said something, they would lose points. If she didn't say something, Neville would lose even more points for not being prepared. But, if she did say something, then Slytherin would have even more a grudge to pay back—

Fortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands by fate, and the pouch of potion ingredients went crashing to the floor when Crabbe impatiently held out the handoff to someone at another table and let it drop before it actually landed in their hand.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he put his hands on the edge of the table. "Mr Crabbe, how kind of you to find Mr Longbottom's potion kit. Do prove to your classmates that Slytherin is not a house of incompetents and fools and give it back to him."

Realising perhaps that Snape had just given him an out, Crabbe picked up the potions kit and set it down in front of Neville before going back to his seat.

Snape scowled. "Five points to Slytherin for returning Mr Longbottom's potions kit."

"But—" a voice started to say toward the back of the classroom and was immediately hissed silent by their classmates.

"Did you say something, Mr Finnegan ?"

"No, sir," Seamus said, gritting his teeth.

"The formula is on the board. Do try not to hurt yourself reading," Snape growled testily.

Hermione, who sought to position herself to better see the board, ultimately failed. She had to trust her partner to read the board, only— she _didn't_ trust her partner. She was pretty sure that Neville desperately needed a pair of glasses.

Neville pressed his entire face into the book, confirming to Hermione that they were utterly doomed. If she said anything again or even tried to help him, Professor Snape would dock her points into the next year into the negatives, and the entire House would want to lynch them both.

Want? More like would— they would _definitely_ find a way to feed the pair of them to the giant squid.

And, much like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Hermione watched as Neville picked out a packet from his kit and fumbled clumsily with the strings. She scanned her book quickly, flipping the pages frantically. Suddenly, the ball beside Neville began to glow bright red, and Professor Snape stood up, looking like he was going to say something.

Neville, seeing Snape striding quickly towards him, panicked, fumbled with the parcel, and down it went into the bubbling cauldron—along with his entire kit, the glowing red ball (was that his Remembrall?) and—

" **No, Neville! Watch out for Trevor!** " Hermione cried, lunging to push Neville out of the way in order to keep Trevor the toad from leaping right into the boiling cauldron of fatality.

Her hands wrapped around Trevor, keeping from hitting the boiling cauldron by mere inches, and whirled around just as Trevor hopped right out of her hands to land smack on Millicent Bulstrode's face.

The young witch screeched in disgust, beating on her head and chest to get the frightened toad off of her, sending a sizeable cloud of assorted potion ingredients flying into the air. A brightly coloured piece of shimmering— something—flew off Vincent Crabbe's hands as he pried the toad off Millicent's face and drifted as if in slow motion down into the cauldron.

 _Burble._

 _Burble._

 _ **KABOOM!**_

Her cauldron blew up, sending it splattering onto the rafters above—

And down on everything else below.

 _Plop._

A large splat landed in Neville and Hermione's cauldron.

Everything seemed to slow down in the ensuing panic, Hermione saw her potions professor send out a spell to shelter his students from the secondary explosion. At first, he tried to shield the cauldron and vanish the contents, but the spell fizzled as the cauldron seemed to resist any attempt to control it from that end.

Professor Snape quickly cast another spell and a wave of his magic, like a glistening bubble, moved from the outside of the room in, enveloping each student within a bubble of protection. There was a bubble coming towards her and Neville, but Neville was panicking and trying to run away from it.

Hearing her father recite the quote, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing," she reached her arm out, grabbed Neville by the waist, and flung him toward the protective bubble even as she, too, tried to make it.

 _ **BOOOOOOOOOM!**_

Everything for Hermione Granger went black.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes and realised she had a problem.

She couldn't see.

She frantically tried to touch her face and realised there was something covering her eyes. Was she burned? Had her eyes been damaged?

Instinct told her to rip it off of her face and find out, but her parents would have told her that if a doctor told you to shield your eyes, it was for a very good reason.

What reason? Did the potion explode and burn her face?

"Easy now."

"We're here."

"Don't hurt yourself."

Hermione froze. The voices were close, but soothing. Who was that? She didn't recognise the voices.

Despite knowing her eyes were covered, she could make out blurry vision, like one of the heat cameras that her father had shown her— only it was disjointed and in multiples like she was doing a vision test at the opthamologist's office.

"Tell me when the images line up, little miss," her doctor would say. Ultimately, her vision did not require correction, but she always thought it was a fun test and tried to read the fine line of micro-print as an amusing challenge.

"You should ssssleep," a soothing voice said.

"Yesss, sssleep."

"We'll be here when you awake."

"Resst easy."

Feeling the exhaustion hitting from all sides, she did as she was told, sleep claiming her almost instantly.

* * *

"Severus, I fear you are going to have to be the one to assist Miss Granger."

"Me? Why are you looking at me like that, Albus?"

"Because it wasn't a potion that petrified Mr Finnegan and Miss Brown, Severus," Dumbledore said meaningfully.

"Well, _**I**_ certainly didn't do it!"

"I'm not saying you did, Severus," Albus said placatingly, his blue eyes widening as he gave Severus the stare over his half-moon glasses.

"What are you saying, Albus?"

"I'm saying, Severus, that you need to go behind this screen. Then, I believe, you'll understand."

"I am not a healer, Albus," Severus said.

"A healer is not what we need here, Severus," Albus said. "Please, just— walk around the corner and look?"

Snape curled his lip with loathing. "Fine," he said. He stormed around the corner like a petulant child being told to clean his room or pouting that he didn't get ice cream.

Silence.

Snape walked back around the corner, his face looking far paler than usual.

"Do you see the situation, Severus?"

"How did this happen? When I brought her up here, she was— well, she wasn't like that!" Snape said.

"Apparently the physical characteristics didn't, erm, grow in until later," Albus said with a sigh. "Poppy has done as much as she can, but as you can see, all she can do is as long as she has a blindfold on."

"I've contacted my people over at Mungo's, Severus," Pomfrey said, breaking into the conversation. "This isn't the sort of thing that happens. There is no treatment— no kind of therapy that can truly help her. There is—" Poppy made an odd face. "This could be rooted within her very genes, Severus. That potion may not have turned her into this. It may have simply accelerated it."

"Poppy, you _do_ realise what you are saying?" Dumbledore asked. "That would make her—"

"Mythborn," Poppy said. She rubbed her nose. "She will need training. Emotions as well as magic. It runs in her blood. It is her blood. Without control, without someone to help guide her, she will like a feral dragon. Powerful and destructive but most definitely not to be reasoned with."

"What are the chances," Albus muttered. "That Hogwarts would have two of them?"

Severus shot Albus a scathing glare. "Must you make it sound like you are cursed in some way?"

Albus held up his hands. "Surely you see the similarities, Severus? That prank they threw on you—"

"That was not a _PRANK_ , old man," Severus hissed. "They meant to kill me. Only they did me one worse and right in front of Lily. She died, believing me to be pure evil on top of everything else—a beast come in the night to kill her and her unborn child. What they did cannot be undone. I will be this— _this_ —forever!"

Dumbledore waved his hands. "Please, Severus. I do not say this to get your ire. I want you to see that you are the only one that will be safe around her until she is fully trained. That could take years. I will owl Amelia at the DoM, but she will want to teach her as an Unspeakable, change her into a Ministry assassin. She should be here, allowed to have a childhood. What little there is left and can be with the threat of—please, Severus."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I have certain conditions, Albus."

Albus let out a sigh of relief. "Whatever you wish, Severus."

"She is to be my apprentice, officially," he said. "Her chambers connected to mine. She's Slytherin. Gods only know what the Gryffindor will do to her. Make an announcement. Have the damn hat change his mind. Do what you have to in order to convince this school that she belongs with me. I've already seen what those imbeciles say and do to her, and they are supposed to be her own House!"

"Fine, I'll do it," Albus said.

"As my apprentice, she goes with me. Everywhere. She sits with me. She eats with me. You want her safe, Albus, you will agree to this, because all it will take is one stupid boy or girl to fling a spell at her or make her cry, and if I'm not there to shield her—"

"Yes, Severus, that is acceptable. That is what the olden time master and apprentices did anyway. It will not be that hard to arrange."

"Remove the Trace on her, Albus," Severus said in steely tones. "She will be solely _my_ responsibility. No Trace. No interference from anyone."

"Severus, yes," Albus placated. "I want her to be safe here. Whatever you need to make that happen.

"And I need access to adjust my quarters to suit our needs, add rooms, and whatever else. I have no idea what that will be until it happens."

"That's fine, Severus," Albus said.

"One more thing, Albus."

"Yes?"

" _You_ get to explain why Hermione doesn't get to come home to her Muggle mummy and daddy."

Albus sighed deeply. "I will take care of it."

Severus' lips pulled back from his teeth in a sneer. "And if— when— her parents run screaming into the night and thrust custody of Miss Granger into your face, she will become a ward of Hogwarts, or Minerva, or someone who gives a sodding fuck about her as long as it is understood that she is under my care regardless of what is on paper. We will have access to the grounds all year round instead of the usual summertime evacuation idiocy."

Albus' eyes widened at Severus' use of profanity, having been able to count on one hand how many times he'd ever heard him swear with anything other than colourful descriptions of Merlin's various body parts, blood, or sod. He wasn't one to usually descend into the more vulgar vernacular, so when he did, he couldn't help but notice. "Yes, Severus. I want this to work. Please believe me."

Severus straightened his posture and squared his shoulders. "I will be in my quarters making all the necessary arrangements. Send word when all the paperwork, official wrangling and glove slapping with the governors is done." With that, he abruptly turned on his heel and swept from the room, his robes billowing impressively behind him. He halted halfway out the door. "And I want a bloody raise, Albus." And with that, he was gone like a black spectre into the night.

Poppy massaged her scalp with her fingers. "That went rather better than you expected, Albus."

Albus let out a long, weary sigh. "He was up for a raise anyway."

"You do realise you're going to have to cover his potions classes until he gets things situated with Miss Granger?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "How hard could it be?"

* * *

Hermione woke into darkness, and her hand went up to touch the cloth over her face.

"You may remove the blindfold, Miss Granger," a familiar voice said, "but only when we are alone."

"You can trusst him!" a warm voice whispered.

"Yes, he's been taking care of you for days."

"We _like_ him."

"He has soft hands."

"Respectful hands."

"How— how long was I out for?" Hermione whispered the question.

"Almost a week," the voice answered her.

Hermione nudged the blindfold off slowly, squinting into the gloom, suddenly thankful that the light was not bright. Again she had multiple layers of vision at once, some moving and some not, and she winced as her brain tried to focus it all into one clear image.

The image she got was that of her potions professor.

"Aiieeagh!" Hermione pulled the blanket over herself. "What did I do? I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Miss Granger!" Snape snapped, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Miss Granger, you have done nothing wrong."

"But, you're here! I must have done something terrible!" Hermione cried.

Professor Snape sighed deeply. "I regret that our first experiences were not ideal, Miss Granger."

Hermione stared at him, and her tongue flicked outward without her permission. She slapped her hands over her mouth. "What did I just do?"

"Tasted the air, most likely," Snape replied, deadpan.

"But— why would I _DO_ that?!"

"Miss Granger, there was a very good reason why you were out of commission for almost a week. Reasons that were not in any way your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was Longbottom, but it was more the simple randomness of fate." Snape shifted in his chair beside her bed. "There are things you must know before you can be seen in public again. Important things. Vital, even."

"Oh, god, am I contagious?" Hermione moaned. "Do I have mononucleosis?"

Snape made a face, levelling her with a glare.

Hermione slapped her hands over her mouth again, "Imshorry!"

Snape's sigh filled the room. "Are you quite through?"

Hermione nodded her head.

"Here, drink," he said passing her a mug that had a disturbingly cute kitten on it and the words "I love Scotland" printed on it.

Hermione's eyes went wide.

"It was a gift," Snape grumbled. "Just drink your tea. I put your medicine in it to keep your strength up."

Hermione kept staring at the kitten mug, but when Snape gave her another glare, she quickly downed the tea. She stared at her lap.

"Miss Granger," her professor said after some silence. "There are going to be a lot of changes in your life. More than what the normal magical student has to face, and it is not because you were born Muggle, so get that out of your head right now."

Hermione flushed guiltily.

"This— place will be your home," Snape said quietly. "This here will be your literal home. These chambers are yours. Much like the one Minerva gave to you, but these are connected to mine. If there is any trouble, large or small, that door leads to my private chambers." He pointed with one long finger to a door that might as well been the Gate to Hell itself by the expression on Hermione's face.

"I have taken you on as my apprentice, Miss Granger," Snape explained. "It is something; I'm sure you read of in your _Hogwarts: A History,_ yes?"

Hermione nodded emphatically, suddenly more interested.

"Our relationship will be, must be, close," Snape said. "We will be closer than friends or family. We will know obnoxious details about the other, but at the end of the day, my job is to teach you, protect you, and guide you. Yours is to learn— and to trust that I will know best for you."

Hermione swallowed hard. "But you don't even like me."

"Miss Granger," Severus replied. "There are very few people I like, and even less than I can trust, but regardless of whether I like you, and for the record I do not— hate— you, you will be able to trust that from this point on, I will have your health and wellbeing at the top of my very short list. There will be things I cannot tell you. There will be things I will insist that you keep to yourself, but there will also be things you are privy to that no one else in this entire school will know but you and me."

Hermione stared down at the mug again and back at him.

"Like that mug. You will tell no-one of it."

Hermione swallowed yard. "Yes, sir!"

"Now, there are—" Severus turned his head to stare into the hearth, watching the embers glow and churn, "formalities. In public, you will address me as Master. I, in turn, will call you Apprentice. Your classes have been cancelled."

Hermione gasped in horror.

"As you will be learning everything from me," Severus finished.

The relief on Hermione's face was palpable just before the weight of the realisation she would be learning everything from the dreaded potions master.

"Miss Granger," Snape said without the disdain that generally peppered his voice, "you will find that there is a public face and one kept in private. The one in public must always be different, mine more so than most because people are watching me very closely. Then, there are times like this, in rooms I have warded very carefully, to be private, where you may speak your mind. In public, an apprentice does not question the master— not in front of others, so save your questions for when others are not there to read your interruptions as obstinance. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded.

"During my classes, you will be there," Severus explained. "Often, I will give your own work to study. Sometimes, I will have you help prepare the class for the next task. Later, when you are more experienced, you will assist me in overseeing classwork, but that will be later when you are more familiar. I may have to run tasks for me, errands, or things that make no sense to you. Trust me that they do— but at no time when you feel threatened or fearful can you not come to me. It is my duty to be there for you until you can face such things without unease."

"Sir?"

"Hrm?"

"Why me? Why not Draco or someone you get on with better?"

Snape rotated his shoulders and rubbed one side, massaging the muscles. "Believe me when I tell you that having watched Draco grow up, that neither he nor I need a closer relationship."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh."

"The truth, Miss Granger, is that we are alike, you and I," Severus said. "I was once the focus of ridicule and torment so very like yours. I learned quickly that Gryffindor chivalry was not honour and it was Slytherin that protected me. And it will be Slytherin that protects you now, too. While you are welcome to renew such bonds as you had with a certain tabby, your home is now here, and Slytherin is all of here."

"I'm living with Slytherin?" Hermione squeaked.

"You _ARE_ Slytherin."

"Whaa?" Hermione's voice cracked.

"But they _hate_ me!"

"They hate people who are not fellow Slytherins," Severus said with a sigh. "And you are Slytherin. There will be no more issues, save that you must try not to murder Crabbe and Goyle for being utter imbeciles."

Hermione set her mug on the nearby table and wrung her hands together.

"The thing about Slytherin, Miss Granger, is that in public, there can be no conflict between other Slytherin. If there is an issue, it comes out behind closed doors, but you may be surprised to know that there are far fewer conflicts in Slytherin even in private than ever there are in other houses. Most of the people in Slytherin are, as you know, from pureblood families. Rules of behaviour have been ingrained since they could first wave a baby rattle. As my apprentice, you outrank them, so keep it civil to preserve everyone's honour. They will appreciate not having rank pulled, but, as I said before if anyone gives you grief, you are to tell me at once. It is not your job to defend your honour. It is mine."

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

"Now, we have one further thing that must be discussed," Snape said, straightening. "Two if you count what has to happen after."

Hermione blinked.

"There are people born in the world that seem very normal. Some are Muggle. Some are magical," Severus said, sipping a long drink of tea before continuing. "At a time of great stress, usually life-threatening, and usually when one is an adult or very close to it, certain latent genes become dominant, and these people become more than what they thought they were. We call these people Mythborn because all of them take on forms thought only to be a myth. Some may go their entire lives never knowing. Their lives were never in such desperate need. Your incident with the exploding potion— woke up your latent genes. You are more than you were. Or, if you prefer, you are now more what you were intended to be from the start."

"I— I'm a myth?"

"Myth _born_."

"Wait… you said we were alike," Hermione said. "Does that mean—?"

"I, too, am Mythborn."

"But— you look completely normal?" Hermione said tentatively.

"You mean how can a horrible man such as myself possibly by Mythborn since I don't look impressive?"

Hermione shook her head adamantly. "No! I mean… You look like any other human!"

Severus closed his eyes. "We all learn to conceal our natures, Miss Granger. Just as you would pick out the proper thing to wear in public versus running around the grocery store in your knickers."

Hermione flushed. "Oh." Her face wrinkled. "I don't _feel_ any different."

"I'm going to show you something, and I want you to try your very best not to have an emotional breakdown."

Hermione nodded.

Snape gestured with his hand, and the curtain across a floor mirror pulled back to expose the mirror itself. Hermione approached it slowly, perhaps wondering if something would reach out to grab her. The room was dim, but the strange sensation of colour over her vision had faded, at least when she looked into the mirror. She saw her ever familiar face and her unsightly buck teeth, and her giant mess of hai—

 _Wait._

Her hand touched her head, and her hair moved, slithering around her fingers.

"Oh, she sees us now," one voice said.

"About time."

"Shush, you."

Different coloured serpents rose up from her head, wobbling back and forth as their eyes peered back at her through the mirror. Each snake seemed to have a different species going on. There was a white and a black cobra, a red and orange viper, a coral snake, a black mamba, a cottonmouth, a sea snake, an inland taipan, a kingsnake, a rosy boa, an emerald tree boa, and others that she had no idea what they were.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Hallo!" a brightly-coloured, almost radiant sapphire blue serpent said.

Hermione's hand slowly touched the snake, and it rubbed up against her hand quite affectionately.

"Feeling better?" the serpent asked.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione replied automatically, and then seemed to realise she was talking to her own living _hair_.

Hermione quickly sat down on the chair and stared at her lap. "I'm a— I'm—"

"A gorgon," Snape said, his voice surprisingly soft.

Hermione trembled. "Do my parents know?"

Snape's expression softened. "Yes."

"Do they—" She turned her head away.

He looked into the fire, rubbing his hair as though he had an itch. "I fear they did not take the news as well as the Headmaster had hoped."

Hermione closed her eyes in misery. "How will I pay for school now? Supplies?

"As my apprentice, I take care of your supplies and whatever fees you will incur for testing or whatever," Snape said with a sniff. "If there are events you must or wish to attend, and they do not conflict with our work, I will, of course, provide whatever monies you require for such things."

Hermione swallowed and nodded her head, dislodging some of her snakes, who gave a soft outcry of protest at being jostled.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, trying to tuck them back and then realising she had no idea how to do so. She gave Snape a desperate, almost out-the-door panicked look.

"Be still," he hushed, spreading his hand out.

Hermione froze in place, trembling.

Snape very carefully untangled her snakes and soothed them back into place. They hissed happily, rubbing their heads against his hand, and Hermione's eyes drooped close as a soft hiss of pleasure escaped her mouth, her forked tongue flicked out in blissful pleasure.

Her professor shook his head. "Are you feeling better, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded, eyes wide. "Yes, master."

A small tug pulled the sides of Snape's mouth. "Come, put on your blindfold. I have someone I need you to meet."

* * *

"Severus! We weren't expecting you until—"

The woman quickly lunged forward with a pail as Hermione vomited rather violently.

"Oh dear, first side-along Apparition?" she cooed.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione moaned. She relaxed a little as the woman pulled a warm cloth out and gently wiped her face.

"There now, that's better, dear. We're well-prepared around here," the woman said with a voice that seemed to smile for her.

"Severus, you terrible man," the woman chided. "You bring her here first on a side-along?"

"Amelia did the same to me," Severus muttered.

"Well, don't be taking it out on this poor dear," the woman tutted. "Okay, love. My name's Eleanor, and let's get that blindfold off to get a proper look at what you need."

"No! I mean! Bad! Er—" Hermione stammered nervously.

The woman's warm laugh filled the room. "No worries, love. Let's just say it would take more than petrification between friends to get on my bad side." She tugged off the blindfold, and Hermione looked up at her.

Hermione gasped when she saw that the woman's beautiful face was rimmed with writhing boa constrictors for hair. She had a sort of headdress pulled back. Hermione reached out, drawn to touch the woman.

The woman smiled at her, filling Hermione with a radiance like a sun. Eleanor smiled, her fangs unfolding from her mouth slightly as she flicked her tongue out to "taste" Hermione's scent. "I'm from a different branch of the family tree, but I think we might be distant cousins, little love."

Hermione could only nod dumbly, her face filled with wonder. Eleanor's boa-hair greeted Hermione's and they hissed and wobbled and rubbed up against each other in greeting.

"Around here, we carry all the secrets that most people out there would prefer to forget exist," Eleanor said. "But we also keep each other safe too. Now, your snakes have already debriefed me as to what you know, so I will answer your questions by saying 'very, very carefully,' eh?"

Hermione giggled and nodded.

"Now, don't you worry. Severus will take excellent care of you. You just be sure to listen to him, okay? He's one of our best, and if he tells you to jump, you'd best be jumping."

Hermione nodded. Even her serpent hair nodded their heads in agreement too.

"Okay, let's get you in the only robes you'll never need," Eleanor said. "They're exceptional. They will protect you, but they will also protect others from getting an accidental snake to the face, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied.

"Oh, Severus, she's so precious. I want her as _my_ apprentice."

Snape crossed his arms and glowered.

"Now, once we get you fitted and the crystals suitably attuned, you'll have two sets initially. One, which you should always be wearing unless you are sleeping— trust me, don't do that, you end up with crystals embedded in your face. It's horrible— and one to wear when you are washing the other one. As Severus' apprentice, we will craft them to look just like his, so be prepared to billow wherever you go like an angry stormcloud."

Severus muttered something unmentionable in Latin.

Hermione giggled as Eleanor's snake-hair hissed laughter towards the brooding potions master. Eleanor winked at Hermione, and the stress causing Hermione's body to tense like a coiled spring swiftly melted away.

"Ok young lady," she said. "Rules because we love our rules here. Are you listening?"

Hermione nodded.

"In public, you will always have your robes as proper apprentice fare. Nice and black. Too many buttons and your apprenticeship pin on the collar. Here's the rub. If you are attending formal events here, you wear the Unspeakables uniform. Full white like you're going to a wedding, full headdress— now, I'm sure you realise that for people like us, the headdress is full time unless we are around known like company. Yes?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Hermione said.

"Good girl," Eleanor said with a smile.

Hermione looked at her master with wide eyes. "Even my master?"

Eleanor winked at Severus. "Even Mr Stormcloud."

Severus curled his lip but said nothing.

"Now, after we fit you all up, you're going to have to sit in a room with a bunch of people who have to ask you way too many questions, poke you, prod you, and then fill out a bunch of paperwork for you. Just try not to get too irritated by them. Then, you get to meet the big boss of us all."

Hermione's eyes widened fearfully.

"Don't worry, love," Eleanor reassured her. "She has a reputation of being a manticore, but she's really a puffskein."

Hermione gasped. "Is _everyone_ here—"

"Mythborn? No, love. Just a lot of us. No safer place to live and work, yeah? Far better than hiding away in a cave somewhere waiting for the torches and pitchforks."

"Wow," Hermione boggled.

"Let's go," Eleanor said. "We'll meet you after she's been put through the gauntlet, Severus."

"Goody," came his reply.

"Sure you don't want to do it again?"

"No, _non_ , and _nyet_ , thank you very much."

Eleanor stuck out her forked tongue at him and shuffled off with Hermione.

* * *

Hermione itched her head, her fingers running into her headdress. She was wearing the "in house" headdress that covered her eyes, but it allowed her "hair" to be free. There was no one in the DoM that wouldn't know who she was, so so Eleanor said, as there were only two of them in the entire Department of Mysteries. Eleanor was distinctively python, and Hermione was distinctively a rainbow cornucopia of serpentine species. The outside apprentice robes would have a different headdress that covered her eyes, but it glamoured her head to appear as bushy as she remembered it when in reality she was still a Gorgon, and her hair was still a writhing nest of vipers. Literally.

Still, she felt so much better. After meeting Eleanor, the panic of being totally alone had faded. She'd met a sphinx, a real honest-to-goodness manticore named Joe, a gryphon named Riley, a cerberus named Adonis, and a siren named Aglea. She'd giggled when Joe had shared his name, and he had flushed saying his parents just wanted a nice, normal boy. They got a manticore instead.

She could relate.

Her master was in one of the rooms being put through the official third-degree Spanish Inquisition. She was glad she wasn't in there with him. Her own interrogation was bad though. Name, birthday, family, family tree, did she have any special powers that she knew of, and the list went on. Most of them were a bit silly considering she'd just figured out what she was—If she had any special powers, how was she to know? Save for the obvious having snakes for hair and a literally stony gaze.

"Piss off!" she heard a voice saying.

Hermione looked up.

That did _not_ sound very happy.

 **BLAM!**

The sound of something heavy slamming into something else— a wall perhaps?—broke Hermione out of her thoughts completely.

Hermione looked around. No one was breaking down doors to check out the sound, so maybe it was perfectly nor—

 **THUMP!**

The sound a door opening and slamming followed the dull thud and Hermione heard man's voice yell, "I'm not sure what your problem is today, Socrates, but you need a serious time out!"

A man in green robes and an armful of scrolls stormed past Hermione as he ripped some sort of goggles off his face and stomped down the hallway.

Torn between sitting on the bench and amusing herself by reading the rather dry collection of expired magazines that ranged from Wizarding fashion to " _What is a Car, Anyway?_ ", Hermione felt her serpents perk with curiosity.

 _Twitch._

 _Twitch._

Hermione stood and walked towards where the sounds had come from. The voice had sounded irritated, sure, but maybe they just needed a hand? She passed by a few windows to what looked like various habitats, but there was nothing inside but plant life as far as she could tell.

She wondered how she was even going to tell where she was going just as a large _WHUMP_ struck the nearby wall. "Don't even come back, Piers!" the earlier voice yelled.

Hermione knocked on the door. "Um, hello? Did you need—"

" **WHO THE FUCK LET YOU IN HERE?!** "

Hermione's eyes widened under her headdress. "The door was actually wide open, but I knocked."

"Oh, you knocked, did you? Come to visit old Socrates and try to get him to behave himself? Do a little trick? Maybe translate some old serpent text? Well, **FUCK YOU** _!_ "

A huge tail whipped out of the darkness and sent Hermione flying into the habitat, slamming into a mass of vines and sliding down them with a thump.

"Ow."

"That wasn't nice."

"Not nice at _all._ "

"You okay?"

"Are you all right?"

Hermione's headdress had been knocked free, exposing her entire head, and she rubbed her scalp and some of her serpents with a wince. The cobra heads rubbed up against her cheek, flicking their tongues out to caress her skin. Hermione touched them tenderly. "I'm okay, thanks. You all okay?"

One snake rattled his head, tiny stars circling.

Hermione pulled it closer as she'd seen Eleanor do, pressing her lips to his snout.

The snake manifested a tiny red heart over its head.

"I think he hit his head too hard," one of the other serpents said with concern.

Hermione stroked the black mamba snake, frowning as it wobbled, its tongue sticking out limply. Her shoulders straightened as her magic flowed to her command. The magic rippled down to the wounded snake, and its body mended. The other snakes nuzzled it until it hissed and rocked back and forth, seemingly ready to strike. Hermione stood, cracking her neck as her lips pursed in her anger. Her fists clenched, bolts of magic crackling between her fingers.

Her serpent hair rose, every snake with fangs bared, mouths open wide to strike.

 _Hissssssssss._

Her eyes filled with black as if oil was moving across the whites of her eyes. She stormed into the middle of the habitat, magic crackling around her with sharp pops and hisses.

Images of taunting kids swirled around her.

" _You see her?"_

" _Know-it-all bint."_

" _Look at her wave that hand like she knows."_

" _Bet it's all in that book!"_

" _She's a nightmare, no wonder she hasn't any friends."_

" _Who would want to be friends with that!"_

" _Why wasn't she sorted into Ravenclaw with all the other know-it-alls?"_

" _Her hair! Doesn't she know how to brush?"_

The insides of her eyes began to glow, and the eyes of her serpents glowed with them.

"You. _Will._ Apologise." Hermione's voice seemed to come from many voices, echoed in the hisses of her serpents, even as the fangs of the giant basilisk came roaring down from above to devour her whole.

The basilisk froze in place, the bright red feather on his head rising in wonder. He flattened his head on the ground before her, eyes turned up in devout worship.

"Please forgive me, Mistress," the basilisk hissed, prostrating himself against the ground of the habitat. "I am but your humble servant."

The writhing serpents calmed as the dangerous, wrathful glow of Hermione's eyes faded into a somewhat less intense gold. "I could really use a cuppa."

The basilisk abased himself on top of her dragonhide boots. "I know where the tea is."

Hermione's hand gently touched the top of the great basilisk's head as a warm rush of magic sealed them together.

* * *

"Mason, have you seen my apprentice?"

"You have an apprentice?"

Snape glowered at the man who was polishing crystals at a long table. "The one you're shining crystals for?"

"Oh! Uh—" Mason looked around. "She was right there. The magazine is gone, maybe she went to find a more comfortable chair? Socrates was being a pill for Piers. She might have left to, uh—shut out the screaming."

Severus paled. "Why didn't you _tell_ me they were trying to bring down Socrates today?"

"Well, it hardly matters what day—"

"Come on, let's go," Eleanor said. "I can help with Socrates if he gets wind of her! Coming Amelia?"

"Bringing up the rear," the witch said rushing behind them. "Just putting on my anti-petrification goggles." She pulled something out of her robes and sealed them across her face, so her eyes were protected.

As they rushed down the hall, it was eerily quiet. They scanned the rooms and saw the open door. Sending out a spell to detect anything hidden, they shook their heads and ran down the hall, robes fluttering behind them only to screech to a halt as they heard someone reading aloud.

"The Muggle automobile is a curious thing. They use them to get from place to place very fast, but usually end up going very slow instead. Since they do not Apparate and cannot use a proper Floo, nor do they use a broom for anything but cleaning, it's amazing Muggles can get anywhere— are you sure you want me to read this to you, Socrates? It's really boring."

Low hissing replied to her.

"Really? That wasn't very nice of Piers. Have I met him?"

More hissing.

"Oh, him. Well, I wouldn't take it personally. He seemed to have a lot on his plate."

"Do you normally have flying teaballs here?" Hermione's voice asked.

"Oh! Thanks! Oh, my favourite tea too. How did you know?"

Severus, Amelia, and Eleanor burst into the break room which was filled almost to capacity with the bulk of a giant basilisk holding a teapot and a bright pink tea cosy in his mouth. Hermione was sitting in the middle of his coils with a copy of _What is a Car, Anyway?_ open in her lap. All of Hermione's head snakes whipped around to stare at the interlopers. Each one had a biscuit in their mouth.

Amelia suddenly broke into a broad grin. "You're **HIRED**!"

Severus facepalmed loudly as Eleanor grinned and slapped Severus on the back.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry, but the image of all of Hermione's head snakes guiltily having nicked biscuits cracked me the hell up.


	2. Slytherin, Obviously

**A/N** : Thanks for waiting for chapter 2!

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

 **Chapter 2: Slytherin, Obviously.**

 _You know, you can touch a stick of dynamite, but if you touch a venomous snake it'll turn around and bite you and kill you so fast it's not even funny._

 _Steve Irwin_

* * *

 _ **Muggle Bint Given Private Quarters While Rest of Hogwarts Lives in Dorms**_

 _A little birdy told me that there is a bit of a fuss going on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it begins with Hermione and ends with Granger._

 _The Muggleborn witch, who was apparently the bane of her classmates from day one, was whisked off to her own room, first by none other than that biased, brooding, cat named Minerva McGonagall. Then, after a potion explosion that had obviously been concocted by the little bint herself, she charmed herself up a potions master, and is now his apprentice, earning herself, yet again, her own room quarters while other more deserving children are forced to share quarters in the dormitories._

 _Hogwarts is obviously playing favourites. I ask you, when did the paltry needs of one crybaby student require a private quarters?_

 _I think everyone at Hogwarts needs to start crying to have their own quarters instead of the shared dorms!_

* * *

 _ **Owled Letter to Editor of The Daily Prophet**_

 _Dear Mr Cuffe,_

 _I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy of the House of Malfoy, send you greetings on this October the fifteenth in the year of nineteen hundred and ninety-one._

 _It has come to my attention that certain people under your employ are casting aspersions upon the great school of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and as a person who values passing a fine quality education on to the next generation as well as one who values the Old Ways that truly matter, I find the discrediting of the ancient and most respected master and apprentice system to be completely uncalled for and slanderous. This horrendous bit of libel is a blatant act of defamation that I cannot and will not stand for against a school with such great and honourable past._

 _As you very well know, it is the duty of a master to provide shared quarters for their apprentices ever since olden times, and I can personally attest that Master Severus Snape took on Apprentice Hermione Granger as befits a man of his station. While all masters are equally able to do so, it has become a shockingly rare thing to find anymore, and I will not see you or your employ, assassinating Master Snape's character for taking on a fine old tradition._

 _I am sure, as a man of substance, you are not going to simply stand idly by and permit your employees defame your reputation. I sincerely hope you will arrange to have a suitable retraction posted in the next publication and ensure that discipline administered to Miss Skeeter in hopes of preventing this sort of thing from happening again._

 _I remain, yours in honour,_

 _Lucius Abraxas Malfoy_

 _(seal of the House of Malfoy, pressed in sealed witness wax of Lady Elisabeth Cavendish-Davis, Testimonium Officialis)_

* * *

Rita Skeeter was seriously brassed-off.

She buzzed a line into the open window and looked around. Her beetle senses were almost blown away by a cloud of perfume that drifted by and she backed up into a spider web.

A large, hungry spider came careening down the well towards her, and she struggled frantically, using her large mass to break the silk, saving herself, if only by a few inches. Merlin! What the _hell_ did they feed the spiders in this horrible place?

That's what it was too. Horrible.

She'd worked her arse off trying to get in the limelight, and instead no one would give her the time of day— not until she learned to become an Animagus and write all the dirt that people didn't want out there.

Why was _this_ Muggleborn whelp any different? What made _her_ so special? Why did Lucius Malfoy take such offence?

Of course, Cuffe had immediately bent to the will of Lord Malfoy because anyone and everyone that knew anything knew that messing with Malfoy meant you wouldn't last long.

She was going to prove him wrong, though. She was going to get real evidence and shame the name Malfoy so badly that no one would ever listen to him again. She was doing the world a service, after all. It wouldn't take long, either. She had a secret weapon in her Animagus form. She could get around just about everything, and she planned to do just that. She landed on some student's robes, tucking herself between the wrinkles. She was going to make _sure_ that Muggleborn witch got everything coming to her.

* * *

"What is this, Uncle?"

"It's a game."

Draco huffed, poking the contraption, and a glowing ball shot out, narrowly missing Draco's eye. "Hey!"

"Don't poke what you don't understand," Snape cautioned. "You'll lose an eye."

Draco sighed. "What is it really?"

"A game," Snape repeated. "Speaking of stupidity, what have I told you about coming in here without your wrap-around glasses?"

Draco looked down at the floor. "Not to."

"I do not want your father demanding to know why his son is a marble statue," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "Don't make me seal you out of this room for your own safety."

Draco hastily put the wraparound shades over his eyes. "They tint everything rose-coloured," Draco complained.

"Would you rather be petrified?"

"No, Uncle," Draco replied quickly.

Hermione shuffled in from the adjoining room. "I finished your assignments, Master," she said, screeching to a halt and hurriedly turning away, covering her eyes with her arm as the serpents pulled her headdress on when she realised they were not alone. "I'm sorry!" she cried.

"No, Draco knows better than to come here without his glasses on," Snape said as he pinned the boy with a glare. "Don't you, Draco?"

"Yes, Uncle," Draco said sheepishly.

"You have my permission to petrify him if he is stupid enough to come here again without his glasses on," Snape said, driving the point in with a hammer. "His father paid through the teeth to have those made, he would be most perturbed finding out all you did was not use them."

Draco flushed, turning the same colour as his shades.

"Have you seen Socrates? He said he was hungry," Hermione said. "I figured I'd get him something to eat before he ate someone."

Snape pointed to the large tail sticking out of his washroom. "He's steaming himself in the bath."

Draco's eyes widened, having missed the giant snake tail sticking out of the door. "How did I miss that?"

"He's wonderfully stealthy for a giant snake," Snape said. "I'd recommend knocking before attempting to use the loo."

Draco fidgeted. "I'll, uh, hold it."

"It's okay, Socrates doesn't mind sharing space," Hermione said.

"He's a basilisk!" Draco protested.

"What does that have to do with sharing space?" Hermione asked.

Draco twitched, thinking the answer was pretty obvious, even if it was only to him.

The green flames in the Floo caused Severus to lift his head. "Yes?"

"Clear for a visit, brother?" Lucius' voice purred. "I have my rose-coloured glasses on, as it were."

"Come through, Lucius."

The tall, immaculate blond wizard stepped through, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as he yawned. "Ungodly hour, Severus," Lucius said. "I hope all the hoops have been jumped through?"

"Yes, well, your letter to the Prophet at least gained us a reprieve," Severus said. "I thank you for that."

Hermione bowed her head to Lucius as he came through, but her serpents peered at the wizard with barely-contained curiosity. Their tongues flicked out, tasting the air to get a read on him.

"No need for formalities here," Lucius said. "This is perhaps the safest place in all Hogwarts."

"How did the board meeting go, father?" Draco asked.

"Dry," Lucius replied. "They are, thankfully, easily encouraged by the positive press of having a real apprenticeship going on under their roof as well as a Mythborn once I reminded them it wasn't so long ago that young wizards and witches dreamed of waking up one day and finding out they were Mythborn."

"People dream of wanting to petrify people?" Hermione asked in horror.

"Probably not specifically, no," Lucius said, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "I'm sure they wanted something more glamourous, such as waking up a Nemean lion. You have to understand, the scarier and more deadly the better back in the day. You could protect what was yours, and by proxy, your allies, so being scary wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Many, pureblood included, like to forget that part of our history because it happens so rarely. If you notice on our coat of arms, we have the dragon. Long ago, our family had a dragon Mythborn in our family. They were quite proud of that. Other families were much the same."

"But if—" Hermione's question trailed off.

"The idea of pureblood seems to be a little stranger now, knowing that, hrm?"

Hermione nodded.

"Somehow, families that hadn't had a Mythborn in ages or at all, decided that it wasn't being blessed by magic that made them special. It was their bloodlines. It all became about blood, and that twisted into something else. I will admit, there was a time I forgot the true meaning of the Old Ways, and I was not alone. Until my brother reminded me that Mythborn were not just stories."

"Saving your life may not have had anything to do with it," Severus said with a sniff.

Lucius placed his hand on his chest. "Side benefit, old friend."

"Hnn," Snape answered.

"Come, brother, surely we have saved each other's lives long enough to know that we are both stuck with each other," Lucius said. He turned to Hermione. "Let's get a good look at you, Miss Granger."

Hermione came up, looking wide-eyed at the blond wizard who was more than a little intimidating on first glance. One of her snakes struck out a him, and Hermione quickly snatched it and hissed at it. "Behave. That's Lord Malfoy. You _know_ him."

The snake in question hung its head.

"Sorry," Hermione said. "He's ar—arborial. He strikes out at moving things and can't help himself."

Lucius shook his head. "It's all right. No harm done." He waved his wand over her and inspected her skin. "New scales growing in. Does it itch?"

"Master makes a salve for it," Hermione answered. "And I soak for hours in the tub if I can."

Lucius' lips turned upward. "As the one who had his bathing pool crafted, I can assure you I am glad it is getting more use."

Draco eyed the snake tail coming out of the bathroom. "Maybe you need to give him another."

Lucius stared at the basilisk's tail and shrugged. "Good thing it's a large bathing pool."

"At least he doesn't steal the soap," Severus said. "The house-elves had to be trained not to come in unexpectedly, however."

"Socrates spat him out!" Hermione protested, wringing her hands.

Lucius placed a hand on her head, soothing her snakes gently, and Hermione calmed to his touch. "I'm sure he's fine, Hermione. How about we get Socrates something to eat and then we can all get something to eat for ourselves, hrm? Provided you are agreeable, Severus?"

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "It is fine with me as long as her homework is finished, and we all know it is."

Draco looked very interested. "But mum—"

"Your dear mother is off being a social butterfly with the ladies, Draco. Surely _we_ are allowed to have a night out as well?"

Draco brightened. "Okay!"

"You mum doesn't like you going out?" Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. "She's a little strange about going out with me, specifically. My hair has to be just right. My robes."

Hermione's snake hair exchanged glances with each other and shook their heads. Hermione's expression seemed quizzical as she shrugged. "Okay. Master, can you help me change my robes over to outside-safe?"

Severus touched the pins on her collar and the robes shifted the more casual apprentice-wear with a bit less billow and more comfort. He pulled her headdress over her head, and it shimmered, making her serpents look like hair— only they still moved about independently, making it look like she had sentient hair. He soothed them down, gently rubbing each serpent's chin before tucking them in place. The typical Unspeakable blindfold that normally went over the eyes and were enchanted to show her eyes as disturbing glowing orbs was replaced by a Victorian style facemask— ornate, beautiful, yet skin tight with nothing overly crazy to get stuck on anything or get in her way. The holes where her eyes would normally show were covered with very specific crafted lenses that made it look as those human eyes were peering out. "There you go. Mask feel okay?"

"Yes, master."

"Fortunately for us, olden masters used to give their apprentices masks to wear because they did not want people to judge their work by who made it. Apprentices had to let their work speak for them. Only then could they rise to be their own person and take the mask off. Of course, no one needs to know the real reason you are wearing one, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"See if you can coax Socrates out of my bathing pool, hrm?"

Hermione grinned and dashed off to do as he asked.

* * *

"Have anything you wish— taken care of, Magorian?" Severus asked bowing his head to the leader of the centaur. "Something an overgrown and hungry snake might be able to take off your hands?"

The elder centaur raised a brow. "Not unless you mean to take care of a certain Acromantula problem that has been plaguing us for years," he said. The centaur paused, rubbing his chin. "We also have that infestation of swine that got loose from one of the human settlements. They come at night to eat our crops, gore our foals, and generally make our hunters very frustrated. Too smart for their own good."

"I am sure that our friend Socrates would appreciate having a place to hunt. Is there an area you wish—" Severus sniffed, contemplating the right word. "Cleared?"

"We have a crop area deeper in the woods that was ransacked. Days of work destroyed. If we could plant there again, it would be a great boon to us, friend Severus."

"Is there anyone there now?"

"No, we haven't had the heart to step hoof in there since the destruction."

"Why don't you show my apprentice the area, and she can help you with your hog situation."

Magorian nodded, stomping his feet to rid himself of the flies. "Gladly."

* * *

"You sure it's safe leaving Socrates in the Forbidden Forest?" Lucius asked.

"He won't go farther than that area, and the centaur have been warned to stay out until given the all clear. Unlike many humans, they actually understand when rules are given to save their lives." Severus scratched his head as he watched Draco and Hermione try and decide which kind of ice cream they wanted from the case.

"That looks really good," Hermione said. "Could I get that?"

"Sure, young miss," Fortesque said, giving her a large scoop in a homemade waffle cone.

"What is that?" Draco asked, suspicious.

"Chocolate raspberry fudge swirl," the older wizard said with a grin. "My wife's favourite."

Hermione placed her coins on the counter and licked her ice cream, happy with her choice.

"I'll take that one," Draco said, pointing to the green chocolate mint swirl.

"Sure thing," the wizard answered, giving him a large scoop in a cone and handing it over.

"Thank you!" both children said, making sure he was paid. They shambled over to their own, smaller table, dutifully ignoring the adults and pretending they weren't there.

Lucius chuckled. "She seems to be adjusting just fine."

Severus nodded. "Once she realised she wasn't alone, she took to the changes much easier. Then, finding out Slytherin wasn't filled with a bunch of criminals also helped."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have never been viewed positively," he said. "By the other houses, at least."

"Minerva had her new spectacles crafted, so she's safe to stick her feline whiskers into everyone's business again. I found her curled up in Hermione's lap as she was passed out on Socrates. Reading _Hogwarts: A History_ again."

"She does like that book, I've noticed," Lucius said. "The enchanted glass is not cheap. I hope Minerva did not use up her savings on it."

"Minerva has an in with Amelia," Severus said. "She got the in-house discount price."

"Still— well, I admire her dedication," Lucius said.

Severus shrugged. "She truly cares for the girl. More so than her own sodding parents, or so it would seem. They couldn't dump her fast enough into Albus' lap."

"Does she know?"

Severus sighed. "Unfortunately. She is taking it well, all things considered. Her bond with Socrates helps. As do her headful of scaly friends. She's resilient, I will give her that."

"I heard she had her first go at Crabbe and Goyle. I'm sure they are much like their fathers."

"Stuffing their faces with sweets from the kitchens mostly," Severus answered. "They'll be rolling out of Hogwarts before they can graduate. But, they did actually manage not to insult Hermione on her first day, and that shows more character than their parents."

Lucius took a bite of his sundae, somehow managing to make it look suave. "Moderation was never Crabbe or Goyle's forté I fear. I think it's genetic."

"Wonderful," Severus sneered. "I tire of covering for them, Slytherin or not. They blow things up almost as much as Finnigan."

"As I recall—we were hard pressed to keep them out of trouble back in the day," Lucius said.

"I think I've blocked that from my memory along with a hoard of other things that I should have stuffed away into a jar and forgotten permanently."

Both men instinctively rubbed their arms at the thought.

Lucius looked up to see Draco sharing his ice cream with Hermione. "I had really hoped he'd annihilated himself, but it's not going to be that easy, is it, brother?"

Severus watched as Hermione's "hair" cleaned up her face with their tongues— made all the more amusing that it was still charmed to look like hair. Hair with tongues, apparently. "No, but if we play our cards right, those two will never have to take the Mark."

Lucius nodded grimly.

* * *

"Lucius, how could you expose our son to such danger?"

"Danger? Since when is ice cream dangerous, my wife?"

Narcissa Malfoy frowned. "You know what I mean. Everywhere you go, people notice. I heard from Margaret that she saw you at Fortesque's with that Muggleborn."

"Mythborn, Narcissa."

"A dangerous one!" Narcissa hissed. "I don't want to risk Draco getting petrified by a Medusa!"

"Gorgon," Lucius corrected.

"I don't care what you call it!" Narcissa argued.

Lucius' eyes seemed to turn to ice. "Do not forget what my blindness and pureblood superiority got us following the wishes of our parents, Narcissa. No not forget what it already cost you."

Narcissa paled. "Th— this isn't the same."

"Isn't it?" Lucius asked. "Think carefully on who you wish to make your enemy. For now, she is a frightened young girl who is just learning who she can trust. If you are worried what she might do as a friend, think harder on what she may be like when all she knows is spite."

Narcissa flinched. "But she's a monster," Narcissa fretted.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "We are all capable of being monsters, Narcissa. She just has to face it sooner in life than we ever did."

* * *

Hermione pressed the button with her foot and a glowing ball came out of the launcher and smacked her straight in the middle of the forehead.

"Ow!" she cried, rubbing her head.

"You okay?" one serpent asked.

"That looked like it hurt," another said.

The silent snake had a small red heart over its head.

Hermione pulled the serpents closer, rubbing her cheek against them. "I'm fine. I'm just— Eleanor said I should be able to see through you, so being completely blindfolded will never catch me off guard, but I swear all I get are projectiles to the face."

"Can you see them?" one serpent asked.

"Yes, but I see all of your vision at once. It's hard to— back before I only had one set of eyes." Hermione sighed rubbing her blindfold.

The snakes whispered to each other.

"We have an idea!"

Hermione scratched her head, dislodging a snake. "Okay?"

Her head snakes burrowed into each other, making themselves into a turban. Then one snake peeked out.

"How's this?"

"Oh!" Hermione said. "What a wonderful idea!"

* * *

Plonk!

Draco yelped and rubbed his head. "This game is painful!"

"Only if you miss!" Hermione giggled. Each of her head serpents had a ball in their mouth as they wobbled from right to left like a cobra to a flute.

Draco glared at the serpents. "That's hardly fair."

"Use the gifts I have," Hermione said cheekily. "Jealous?"

Draco crossed his arms. "No." He turned away. "Maybe a little."

Hermione grinned, flashing her fangs.

"Out of my bath, you bath hog!" Snape's voice bellowed, and Socrates slithered out of the bath, scales glistening.

Socrates hissed a greeting, chuckling to himself.

"Are you being bad?" Hermione asked.

The basilisk's red feather rose with amusement.

"No bother asking him," Draco said. "He's always up to trouble.

Socrates hissed, tickling Draco's ear with his tongue, causing Draco to bat him away.

"Gah! Snake tongue," Draco moaned.

Hermione flicked her tongue out at him. "Pbbt."

Draco sighed. "Mum was having a fit again." He pulled out a large box and tapped it with his wand. It enlarged to be even larger. Inside was a disturbing array of biscuits and muffins, pastries, and sweets. "She always sends sweets after she and dad have one of their "discussions."

"Any idea what it's about?" Hermione asked.

"With mum it's either appearances or appearances. There really isn't anything else she worries about."

Hermione blinked. "Mum— well back when she was my mum— she only worried about appearances if we had to go out on Sunday or out to dinner with dad's colleagues."

Draco pushed the box over. "Share these with me, yeah? I'll make myself sick if eat them all, and if Pansy gets ahold of the box, no one will get any."

Hermione took a biscuit from the box and nibbled thoughtfully. Her headsnakes peered at the box too, and snatched up a few of the small raisin and currant stuffed cakes and shared it between themselves, getting crumbs everywhere.

Hermione sighed as she was rained on my pastry crumbs.

Draco laughed, and she giggled soon after.

"Silly things," Hermione bemoaned.

The silent snake had a small question mark above his head.

"You can have one too," Draco said.

The snake seemed undecided as to which biscuit to take. Draco lifted out a Garibaldi biscuit and handed it to the indecisive serpent. The snake sported a tiny exclamation mark and a tiny pink heart over his head as it took the tasty bit of homemade goodness and curled around it protectively, hissing at the other snakes that got too close.

"Snakes that eat biscuits," Draco laughed. "I wish mum could see this. Maybe she's stop being such a worrywort."

Hermione frowned. "She probably thinks I'm a monster. I am, so, it's not hard to guess."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "You're a better friend than Crabbe and Goyle," he said, not even honoring them with their first names. "I'm glad they don't have special petrification powers. Everyone would be stone by nightfall."

Hermione blinked, made slightly strange by the membrane that slid across her eyes just before her eyelids closed.

"That's wicked," Draco said, staring at her.

Hermione flushed. "What?"

"You have two sets of eyelids!" Draco said, admiring them.

Hermione flushed slightly pink. "Stop staring!" she squeaked.

"Sorry," Draco apologised. "It's just really neat. And your eyes have these really pretty golden patches of light in them."

"You realise how odd it is to be staring a gorgon in the eyes, yeah?"

Draco grinned, tapping his protective eyewear. "Might as well use it!"

"You two done with your homework?" Snape's voice came from the desk where he was grading a large pile of— everything.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Of course, master."

Draco nodded. "Yes, Uncle."

"Seems as Miss Granger is a positive influence on your study habits," Snape said.

Draco grinned and carried over the box of sweets. "Mum was baking again. You know what that means."

Severus arched a brow as he plucked an applecake muffin off the top. "Eat it and enjoy it, or else."

Draco nodded.

"Let's not even try to count how many sweets I've been forced to enjoy on fear of my life."

Hermione exchanged glances with Draco, who gave her a gallant shrug.

"You might as well take some to Her Tabbiness," Severus said. "Even Minerva respects Narcissa's sweet-cooking binges."

Draco fetched a thick cloth from the cabinet and he and Hermione plucked some of the best looking sweets out of the box and wrapped them up.

"Take these scrolls with you as an excuse. Otherwise the Gryffindor will say you are bribing her for better points," Severus instructed.

"That's stupid," Draco said.

"But they will think it," Snape cautioned.

Draco made a face and sighed. "I'll take the rest to the common room and set them out for everyone," he said. "You ok to get to Professor McGonagall's door?"

"I'll be fine," Hermione answered. "Unless she moved her quarters."

"Her chambers are not the Come and Go Room," Snape muttered.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Snape said, waving her off as he suffered through even more scrolls.

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances.

"Time to look it up in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione said. She hugged Socrates around his huge head and kissed his nose. "I'll be back soon, Socrates!"

Socrates tongue flicked, tickling the witch in a few places as she made sure her headdress was on properly. Her headsnakes complained as she tucked them under the crown so they would look like hair instead of their charming, colourful, and overly fatal selves.

The pair scampered out the door that lead into the hall rather than the common room and disappeared from sight.

Socrates laid his chin over Severus' head, tongue flicking as he watched him grade the scrolls. Severus, not taking his attention off the scrolls, broke off a piece of his apple-cinnamon muffin and held it out, and the basilisk's tongue flicked out, lassoed around it, and carried it into his mouth.

"We'll keep your rather bizarre diet between you and me, eh, Socrates?"

This basilisk hissed contentedly in agreement.

* * *

"Oi, look, it's the bintworm," a familiar voice scoffed as Hermione rushed down the corridor towards Minerva's chambers.

"Where you going in such a hurry, bintworm?"

"Off to get more of us in trouble, eh?"

"Not happy with all the points we had taken off because of you?"

"Leave me alone," Hermione said, hurrying faster.

Someone snatched the parcel out from her pile of scrolls.

"Oh, what's this? Bintworm packed herself a snack."

"Give that back!" Hermione cried.

"We don't forgive all that, you know," one of the voices said, but Hermione couldn't tell whose it was. She caught the flash of red and black, but trying to focus while being swirled around was a bit too much for her. Her head serpents, unused to such manhandling, could offer her no assistance, as she felt their confusion and torment as clearly as her own.

"Especially when that person goes traitor to Slytherin."

"Just proves she _never_ belonged to us," another voice said.

"Yeah. Good riddance, I say."

"Hate to have these sweets go to waste though."

"Give those back!" Hermione protested.

"Aw, look. Little bintworm is going to _cry_."

"I think she soiled her tiny, little knickers."

"We really should check. Wouldn't want her to go around with soiled knickers, yeah?"

Hermione cried out as she was abruptly flipped upside down by her ankles.

"We wouldn't want her to be dirty. Heh. Heh. Heh."

" _Scourgify_."brushes went all over her body. She choked, spluttering. Her head serpents started hissing madly, striking out randomly under the onslaught— only her attackers did not seem to understand just how precariously their lives hung in the balance, believing her hair to be as wild and untameable as ever.

"Leave her alone!" a young voice screeched.

"Go back to the dorms, Haley!"

"You're bullying someone!"

"We're just binning the rubbish, Haley, go back to the dorm!"

"I'll telling McGonagall on you, Ronald Weasley!"

"Shhht!"

"Shut her up!"

"Cormac McLaggen! Andrew Kirke! I know all your names!"

"Quick! Obliviate her!"

"What? She's a child!"

"You want to get in trouble because of a little eleven-year-old tattletale?"

" _Obliv—"_

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Hermione heard the sounds of frantic scuffling.

The wound of a young girl's scream echoed down the corridors, and this time the muttering of all the portraits rose up in automatic response. An enormous elk Patronus went zinging down the hall, lighting it up with its brilliance.

"What in Merlin's beard irons are you all doing?!" the head boy roared as prefects came streaming out in response to the young girl's panicked scream.

The head girl blocked all hope of escape with some hastily conjured bins of licorice that wrapped around the runners' legs and kept them from leaving the scene of the crime. Prefects from all of the houses came from every corridor, some only half-dressed and looking ready to commit murder.

"Protego," a venomous voice cut through the commotion as Snape caught his apprentice in his arms. She fell from the ceiling, head first, and he slowed her descent and pulled her against him as she fell. Hermione said nothing, but she had a death grip on her master as she trembled and clung to him.

"What is going _**on**_ here?!" Minerva's voice rolled over the crowd.

"The Slytherin started it!"

"Yeah, we just finished the fight, that's all!"

"I highly doubt that the apprentice of one of our teachers is out instigating a brawl only to get strung up by her ankles in the hallway!" Minerva yelled. "Not to mention that the notion that a first-year would hardly be so foolish as to attack multiple students from a rival house, several of them considerably older than herself!"

Red faces averted their gazes, going silent.

"You said she wasn't _really_ an apprentice!" one voice angrily hissed at another student.

Minerva's head turned around like an owl's, her eyes narrowing. "All of you, march to the Headmaster's office. Now. All of your parents will be getting owls to get permission for memories. Miss Branstone, I need you and Mr Hilliard to send a Patronus to the Auror's office to expect a formal request for their presence to arrive from me very shortly.

"Yes, Deputy Headmistress," they said together.

"And just for even being out this late past curfew, all of you will be enjoying Mr Filch's hospitality for the next week. Now march!" Minerva growled, pointing her wand down the corridor.

The guilty students shambled towards the Headmaster's office like a chastened chain of whipped puppies.

* * *

"Hey, Hermione," a voice said from over the curtain. "Why are you here?"

"That you, Harry?"

"Yeah."

"I'm here to make sure no one broke anything."

"Broke— anything?"

"Gryffindor apparently decided I needed a 'lesson' again," Hermione said. "Why are you here?"

"Can I move over this curtain? Talking to a curtain is… kinda strange."

Hermione moved the curtain over.

"Thanks."

"Wow, what happened to your leg?"

"A really, really large dog."

"You have a dog?"

"No, it was over in that corridor on the third floor."

"The one that is forbidden?"

Harry flushed. "Yeah."

Hermione frowned. "I'm kind of glad you weren't there tonight."

"Why? What happened?"

"They strung me up by my ankles and pulled my trousers down." Hermione sighed. "And _Scourgified_ me."

"And _what_ -ed you?"

"Covered me in soap suds and attacked me with cleaning brushes."

Harry's eyes went wide. "And I thought my aunt and uncle were the only people who did that sort of thing."

"They—"

Harry nodded. "Without the magic, so just imagine throwing me into a tub full of soapy water and assaulting me with a scrub brush."

Hermione frowned. "It's horrible."

"Yeah."

"Hey, who were you talking to in there?"

"Talking to?"

"Yeah, sounded like you had a bunch of concerned parties in there with you."

"He can hear us?"

"He can?"

"Uh-oh, he's staring this way!"

"Try to look busy."

Harry eyed at Hermione rather strangely. "Maybe I _did_ hit my head. I mean, there is no one there, but I'm hearing other voices."

Hermione stared at her lap. "You remember that really bad explosion in Potions, right?"

"How could I forget that? Even _without_ Trevor clinging to Bulstrode's face."

Hermione cracked a smile at that. "There were some, erm, aftereffects."

"You have multiple personalities?"

"Uh… no," Hermione said with a frown. "Well, not exactly."

A black basilisk head poked out from Hermione's curls sporting a miniature blindfold and size. Hermione gasped, covering his head. "Socrates! Oh good, you have your blindfold on. Okay."

Socrates stuck his tongue out, flicking it toward Harry.

"You got a snake?" Harry said with wide-eyed wonder.

"Harry, this is Socrates," Hermione introduced. "He's a basilisk. I had no idea he could shrink—"

"What's with the blindfold?"

"So he doesn't petrify you."

Harry blinked. "Oh. That, um, makes sense then."

"He's a bit clingy right now. He's mad at himself for not being there earlier to protect me. I keep telling him that petrifying Gryffindor isn't going to help. I don't think he believes me."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't," Harry admitted.

The mini-basilisk head wobbled, tongue and pits working hard to get a bead on Harry.

"Hi," Harry said. "Pleased to meet you, uh— Socrates?"

"You with the mean ones?" Socrates accused. "I will seriously fuck you up if you are."

"No, I'm not!" Harry cried. "I swear!"

Socrates pulled back, slightly caught unaware. "You can understand me?"

"Well, yeah, you spoke to me."

Socrates whispered into Hermione's ear.

"Socrates says he'll give you a chance if you swear to him you're not one of the bullies." Hermione tilted her head. "You could get tell him—" Hermione protested.

"I, uh," Harry said, scratching his head. "I swear I'm not a bully, or if I was, I swear I didn't know I was."

Socrates tilted his head at him and shook it, hissing.

"Good enough, I guess," Hermione said. "You _promise_ to keep this secret?"

Harry nodded.

"Swear it."

"I swear it!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"I swear it," Harry repeated, his bright green eyes unwaveringly serious and sincere.

Hermione put her hands up to touch her headband, and her "tresses" shimmered as the glamour dropped, exposing some very curious snake heads.

"He's staring at us."

"Well, to be fair, we are staring at _him_."

"Think we can trust him?"

"Do we bite him?"

"Please don't," Harry whispered.

The headsnakes wobbled back and forth.

"This is Glyph," Hermione said, stroking the eastern brown snake. A small heart formed over his head. "This is Mal," she said, stroking a blue snake with a striking orange head and tail, and he's a blue Malaysian coral snake. Then there's Nag and Nagaina, Dundee, Ash, Chicka, Border—" she singled out the cobras, the inland taipan, black mamba, boomslang, and Texas coral snake.

"The cottonmouth is Candy, and this is Dia, she's a timber rattler, I think. The saw-toothed viper is Jig. Ray is a krait. Ada is the death adder. This cute lady is Gabby the gaboon viper. The rosy boa is Rose. This beautiful one here is Penny. She's a copperhead. Oh!" She snatched Chicka to keep her from biting Harry's forehead. "Sorry, she's pretty trigger-happy. And Gem is an emerald tree boa."

Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Wow!" He frowned. "This was all because of Neville?"

Hermione shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey seems to think it was just a catalyst— it was bound to happen, but it he managed to help it happen faster."

Harry swallowed hard. "I'm not sure I could handle that well. I have enough problems being the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione seemed to understand and sympathise. "People make judgements before they even _know_ you."

Harry nodded grimly. "Yeah, exactly." He eyed the serpents with a mixture of caution and curiosity overflowing. "May I touch you?"

The serpents exchanged glances. "Okay, as long as she's okay with it."

Harry looked at Hermione rather sheepishly.

Hermione shrugged. "It's okay with me."

Harry carefully reached out and rubbed the snakes very gently with his fingers, and they tickled him with their tiny forked tongues as they checked him out in return. "Looks like you were meant to be in Slytherin, after all, yeah?" He smiled warmly at her without so much as a hint of malice in his voice.

Hermione chuckled at that. "I suppose so."

"The hat thought I should've been in Slytherin," Harry confessed, "but I pleaded to be in Gryffindor instead."

Hermione frowned. "Truly?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione shook her head, jostling her snakes. "I can't say I have much love for Gryffindor anymore. I haven't had half as much grief since I was switched to Slytherin. Even Pansy leaves me alone now."

"Really? I thought she hated you."

"Turns out she hates Gryffindor far more than the person, Muggleborn or not, and I can't really blame her for that after—"

"Did Gryffindor really attack you?"

Hermione nodded.

Harry was silent for a while. "Was Ron one of them?"

Hermione stared at her lap, her hair serpents all turning to face the window instead of Harry.

Harry slumped. "I see." Something suddenly seemed to occur to him. "Wait, if you have snakes for hair that means—"

Hermione arched a brow.

"Oh, the mask— _that's_ why I'm not a statue."

"Hermione chuckled. "Good thing it wasn't a snake, Harry. It would've bitten you."

Harry crossed his arms and mock-pouted. "Not funny."

"Oh, but it _was_ funny," she said with a grin.

Harry laughed. "Yeah." He itched his head where something was bothering him. A large beetle buzzed, caught in his untidy mop of black hair.

 _SNAP!_

Chicka's fanged mouth closed around the beetle, her fangs sinking into the insects tough carapace like it was nothing at all.

" _ **NNGGAHHHHHGAHHHH!"**_ a feminine shriek caused both Harry and Hermione to cover their ears, and Hermione's head snakes practically tied themselves into pretzels trying to slither away and hide, but they couldn't as they were quite attached.

A woman dressed in obnoxiously bright robes and over-the-top red-framed spectacles seemed to erupt from the ground. "The world is going to know all about you, you snake-haired _**FREAK!**_ " the witch screamed shrilly as she simultaneously rubbed her punctured arse cheek. She pulled out her wand, but it dropped as her arms were half-transformed into beetle's legs. They twitched against her wishes, making it impossible for her to cast the spell she wanted.

" _ **Madam Pomfrey!"**_ Hermione and Harry yelled together.

Poppy came running around the corner, wand in hand, only to screech to a halt as the shrieking witch fell to the floor, caught in-between woman and beetle as the venom of a hungry boomslang oozed throughout her body. " _ **Rita Skeeter?!"**_ she cried.

Rita could only buzz frantically in obvious distress.

Poppy waved her wand over Rita frantically, casting a bubble of suspended animation over her extremely pale and twitching body. "Alright, which one of your lovely little serpent friends delivered Miss Skeeter a bite to her left buttcheek?"

The tresses of snakes parted, leaving Chicka alone and exposed. The guilty snake hung her head in shame.

"She didn't _know_!" Hermione said in distress. "She was trying to eat a beetle that was stuck in Harry's hair!"

"Boomslang venom seems to be affecting her magic," Pomfrey said, summoning assistance from the other medi-witches. "Can you two _try_ not to blow anything up before I get back to check on you?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"We'll try really hard!"

Severus' mass of billowing black filled the walkway as he stared down at the suspended Rita-beetle and then the two children. "Apprentice."

"Yes, Master?"

"Is this your doing?"

Hermione hung her head, her snakes all drooping along with her. "Yes, Master."

Severus' lip twitched in black amusement at the Rita situation. "Ten points to Slytherin for apprehending an illegal Animagus." Snape glowered over Rita. "I know Alastor will be ecstatic to hear the news."

* * *

 _ **Effects of Boomslang Venom on Magical Physiology: A Case Study**_

 _Boomslang skin, as most know, is a valuable key component in certain Potions; however, what few people know is that boomslangs are a highly venomous and deadly species of snake that affects magical physiology much more strongly than most. It is their very magical nature that makes them so effective for potions work, but the venom is a very potent hemotoxin that makes the body unable to coagulate, or allow blood to clot, and thus one small cut or abrasion will cause internal bleeding (or external) that does not stop._

 _Muggles believe this to be a slower-acting venom, but for magicals, it is quite the opposite. Symptoms begin almost immediately, and antivenin must be administered quickly in combination with blood replenishers in order to keep the victim from exsanguinating._

 _Harvesters who seek out the boomslang for its skin tend to raise them in specially-designed habitats and then wait for shedding time to save themselves the chance of getting bitten looking for one in the wilds of Africa, where various other species of highly venomous snakes like to make their home._

 _After a month-long intensive study by Apprentice Hermione Granger and her master, Master Severus Snape, on a recent victim of boomslang venom, we are happy to publish their reports in our journal this month, including a potion base with which to brew a potion-based antivenin which works well with the magical physiology. Their impressive and groundbreaking work, which includes stasis-treat-stasis patterns, has devised for us a stable method of caring for a typical envenomated patient as well as the rare case in which the victim is also an Animagus, which requires an entirely different treatment protocol due to the specialised area of magic that makes the Animagus transformation possible._

 _Master Snape and Apprentice Granger would also like to note that appropriate and timely treatment, even successful treatment, does not guarantee a victim will not suffer irreparable damage to the body or mind, as bitten magicals can succumb almost instantly to brain-related symptoms. A percentage of these patients will experience random, permanent side-effects for reasons that are not entirely known at this time._

" _Treatment can only stave off further damage, but the only way to ensure that you will not suffer from lingering, possibly permanent side-effects it not to get bitten in the first place," Master Snape stated._

" _Boomslangs are native to sub-Saharan Africa," Apprentice Granger informs us, "and the skin is not toxic in any way. It is perfectly safe to use it in potions. In fact, using the venom in potions is also perfectly safe. Just don't get bitten by the snake by sticking your hand in tree cavities in sub-Saharan Africa."_

 _We at the Journal of Wizarding Medicine proudly present the fascinating research of Master Severus Snape and Apprentice Hermione Granger as we nominate this duo for the Wizarding Caduceus Award and the Dilys Derwent Grant for further research in the field of venom-based potions._

* * *

 _ **Rita Skeeter Found Starkers in Hogsmeade Fountain**_

 _Rita Skeeter recently returned to the Daily Prophet after recovering from a lengthy illness, but many of her concerned co-workers are starting to suspect there is something more than a little, well, off about her. Many believed she had chosen to take a leave of absence after her recent shaming of traditional Wizarding values, which caused her name to be summarily dragged through the mud. Regardless of what really happened, Ms Skeeter seems unable to write anything other than gibberish and is prone to spontaneously Disapparating to places unknown— but unfortunately leaving all of her clothing behind._

" _Every bloody night, mate," Angus McFadden, proprietor of the Mermaid's Tail told our reporter. "People like to come to my establishment to enjoy the evening, feed the fish, and make wishes. They don't want to see some middle-aged witch without her clothes splashing about in the fountain and scaring off all the fish!"_

" _I wish she'd quit ruining my evening!" a customer wailed. "I'm going to have nightmares!"_

 _Attempts to get Ms Skeeter to see a healer over the matter have been met only with gibberish and blatant refusal._

 _After she decided to visit the Ministry's fountain just this morning, Minister Cornelius Fudge had her arrested for public indecency and confined to a cell pending a mandatory psychiatric evaluation at St Mungo's._

 _Rumour has it that Ms Skeeter is facing an upcoming trial for the crime of being an unregistered Animagus. The Prophet has covered her bail with the promise she would make her trial, but no one at the Prophet seems to have expected this odd turn of events. Whether she will be found competent to testify in her own trial, however, remains to be seen._

* * *

"One hundred-year-old scotch?" Lucius asked, arching a blond brow and poking the bottle with one elegant finger.

"Glenfiddich single malt scotch whisky to be precise," Severus said, scribbling on his parchments with a quill doused in bright red ink.

"That from the Journal of Wizarding Medicine or the awards ceremony for the Dilys Derwent grant?"

"Neither," Snape replied. "It was from Alastor and Amelia for bringing Skeeter to justice— ahem— in the most creatively effective way possible."

"That must have cost a pretty penny," Lucius said somewhat enviously. "I remember once sampling an old scotch whisky that was only 'half the age of a wizard' and just that small amount with water would have covered the cost in school supplies for all of the Weasley children for nearly the entirety of their Hogwarts education."

"Lucius, are you fondling my scotch?"

"Nonsense, brother. I am fondling the _bottle_."

Snape snorted, summoning a pair of glasses over. He touched his wand to the carafe of water, chilling it instantly, and poured the whisky, adding a splash of the ice-cold water to it. He raised his glass. "To Rita Skeeter, who made all this possible, and to my Apprentice's first published work at the age of _twelve_."

Lucius chuckled and clinked the glass to his. "You are one smug bastard, brother. And deservedly so."

"My apprentice milks her snakes regularly for an almost endless supply of venom, and they seem to enjoy it as a sort of contest to see who can fill the vial up first," Severus said with no little amusement. "The basilisk always wins, though."

"He's _huge_."

"That too."

"She's immune to their bites?"

"Completely. They nip her affectionately all the time. Thankfully, they seem to know they can only get away with that with her."

Lucius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So you have a huge grant to study exotic venoms and devise potions to counter them, and you don't even have to leave Scotland to get the necessary venom."

"Life is beautiful," Severus said with an eyebrow lift.

"You are probably the richest wizard that no one ever knew about," Lucius commented.

"Nonsense, _you_ know."

Lucius leveled him with a stare. "I simply find it amusing that most people seem to think you are so terribly poor that you cannot even bring yourself to move out of a small hovel in Muggle Cokeworth. Even Narcissa doesn't realise just how much wealth you really have."

Snape shrugged. "It's hardly anyone's business. I have ample funds to celebrate once the Dark Lord is well and truly dead, but until then, the only one who shall benefit from it is my apprentice, whom I don't think I could ever manage to spoil with wealth in the slightest when even the slightest touch of kindness sends her over the moon."

"Her parents sent no word?"

"Oh they sent it, alright."

Lucius frowned. "They truly gave her over to Dumbledore without so much as a second thought?"

"Minerva is her official mam, as it were," Severus said. She is my apprentice, so that is all that matters. Minerva would come and cuddle with her regardless— even before all of this. Besides, I think they both need that— the little touches. The purr or the hiss, as it were."

"You do not fool me, Severus," Lucius said, smiling at his old friend. "She's grown on you."

Snape sniffed, but one corner of his mouth quirked upward. "She thrives on the intimate lessons, the stern rules, but also the challenge. All the things I could not do while she was not Slytherin. I grate my teeth at the thought of her talent being wasted instead of encouraged because I would have to dress her down, insult her, and stomp all over her insatiable thirst for knowledge."

"Well, there _are_ those we cannot trust, even now," Lucius said, "but at least her being a Slytherin will protect her more than being a typical foolish Gryffindor."

Snape nodded. "More importantly, it keeps the old man's tinkering hands away from her— and that is one of the most important things. Though, to his credit, he is no longer as biased with Gryffindor as he once was. Lately, all the more so, thanks to that stupid situation that should never have happened in the halls of Hogwarts in the first place."

"Draco told me how the clever little minx carried a bundle of doctored biscuits along with the scrolls and hid the real ones in her robe pockets to avoid them being stolen," Lucius said with clear approval. "That was an act I wouldn't expect from one so newly Slytherin."

"Yes, they were sneezing stinging caterpillars out of their noses all the next day— how terribly unfortunate for them," Snape said, his lips twitching slightly with suppressed mirth. "Made it even harder to convince their parents that they had done nothing wrong, yes?"

Lucius smiled broadly over his whisky glass. "Tell me, brother, was it your idea or hers to create a decoy biscuit bundle?"

Severus gave a smug smile. "It was Socrates, actually."

"Remind me to acquire for that basilisk a fatted and well-aged ox," Lucius said with a grin.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll love that," Severus said. "He's been quite the positive cunning influence on Hermione. I find I can only approve of it."

* * *

Hermione yawned as she settled into Socrates' smooth coils after brushing her teeth and fangs. The fangs had been interesting, as they folded themselves out of the way when not in use, but she was getting the hang of brushing without trying to fill the sink with venom. Oops.

As she leaned down to spit out the toothpaste suds, her headsnakes would brush their own fangs against the set of snake-sized brushes mounted on the wall. House-elves apparently installed it for them thinking that since she brushed her teeth, so would they. Who knew?

With everyone's fangs all squeaky clean and shiny, and oddly minty fresh, Hermione settled under an emerald green plush blanket tucked within Socrates' huge coils, flipping open her latest book to read another chapter or two before she slept.

A soft glow came from above, and Hermione chuckled as Penny had her mouth open, exposing a glowing blue-white light from her wide open maw.

"Well, aren't you precious?" Hermione laughed, kissing Penny lightly on the snout. She positioned Penny a little over to the left so she could read her page, and the snake happily obliged her.

The others, jealous perhaps, decided to try their mouths out at it, and soon her book was accosted by multiple snakelights.

Hermione soothed them all, laughing, adjusting them so their light wasn't shining into her eyes and illuminated the page instead.

As sleep started to make her droop, and she could tell because all of her snakelights were starting to waver too, she decided to call it a night. Glyph offered her a bookmark, a glowing red heart floating above his head.

"Love you too," Hermione said, kissing Glyph on the nose as she marked her place in her book and set it to the side. She cuddled up in Socrates' coils, pulled the blanket over herself, and let sleep drag her off into blissful oblivion.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hehehehe snakelights! Muahahaha!

Thank The Dragon and the Rose for staying up past her bedtime to proof this before bed. You're WELCOME!


	3. Snakes and Ladders

**A/N** : Chapter 3: Whee!

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Snakes and Ladders**

 _Life's full of tricky snakes and ladders. Morrissey_

* * *

Severus frowned, feeling a twinge of something run up his arm. He would have said it felt like a snake moving up his skin, but he knew what that actually felt like. It had become— strangely comforting. If ever there was rule on dangerous vipers being comforting, well, he was breaking all the rules anyway. He pulled up his sleeve, his fingers working on the buttons faster than usual, and stared at his skin.

The Dark Mark was returning.

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd known it was going to happen. It was just the how he wasn't sure of. Even Albus with all his annoying habits, had known the Dark Lord had only vanquished himself temporarily. How he'd known, though, remained a mystery. Even the other Death Eaters had believed the Dark Lord to be well and truly gone— all save Bellatrix.

And Bellatrix was a different sort of crazy. Bellatrix would have ended up in Azkaban long before, had the Dark Lord not been there to yank her leash. The other Death Eaters despised her and her grovelling at the Dark Lord's feet. Even Rodolphus— well, he took out his hatred for his wife by torturing Muggles instead. It was well known that Bellatrix would not even lay with him to conceive an heir, and that was something pureblood supposed did agree about. Heirs were everything. Otherwise the bloodline didn't go on.

Rumour had it that she and Voldemort shared beds back before she was actually married, but he didn't believe it. Voldemort showed no sign of wanting sexual gratification of any kind. Of course, rumour also said that Bellatrix has his child and she served it up as a sacrifice to her Lord— literally.

The thing was with Bellatrix, no one knew what was really true because she was so far gone down the crazy train.

He covered his arm once more, wishing like so many other times that his youth had gone a different way. But Lily had put her faith in her Gryffindor friends, believing that at least they weren't Death Eaters. And then Pettigrew had proved them wrong. Black rotted in Azkaban after that murderous revelation— and for once, Severus was glad it was Black that took care of it. It put him in Azkaban where he belonged, even if it for the wrong reason, if the belief of his innocence was to be believed.

He heard Hermione rustling around in her adjoining chambers just as a certain tabby trotted out Hermione's door, rubbed against his leg, and out his door, not even bothering to pretend to open it with her paws.

Damnable felines.

They could just trounce all over his wards like they weren't there. Mind you, Minerva was one of the few people he actually trusted to his wards when even Albus was locked out.

Minerva cared.

That was the difference, all the difference.

Minerva had been the one to nurse him back to life after he'd made his first really big and really stupid decision: the Dark Mark.

She hadn't said it, but he knew that she knew he wasn't supposed to survive the Dark Mark. That he did made him more interesting to the Dark Lord. He knew Bellatrix was hoping he'd just die while taking it, but he'd been too stubborn to do that, at least in front of her.

He was quite ready to curl up and die privately before Minerva had found in the mud next to the rose bushes, dragged him up to her quarters, and tended him, not even telling Poppy his ultimate secret and greatest shame.

Albus knew, of course, but for different reasons.

To this day, Severus found himself taking out his frustrations on the poor rosebushes, as if their very presence hadn't helped him when he needed it.

Even taking the Mark hadn't brought about his Change, though. No, that had been Potter and Black, ripping open his sleeve and showing Lily that he could never be trusted as they tried to "relieve him" of the Mark. The agony of taking Mark had been nothing to having someone try to remove it, and he had a feeling that was intentional. He'd come into his true inheritance—

And Lily's look of horror told him that there would never be forgiveness.

His almost murdering Potter and Black in his post-transformative throes, however, hadn't helped her opinion of him.

He would always be a Dark wizard.

A murderer.

Moody had come with a squad of Aurors, hitting with about a hundred some stunners before dragging him off—

He'd awoken in a holding cell at the DMLE with a headache of the likes he'd never had before, and Amelia Bones sitting on a bench nearby— offering him a job.

The rest, as they say, was history. The groveling to Albus, the agent to the Dark Lord, all of that was really one more story. His real boss had always been Amelia, and she ran a tight ship. And, unlike either the Dark Lord or Albus, she trusted him to do his job and she was there if he needed her. That is what kept him sane in a situation that would have broken many others.

That and sheer spite to live despite the odds.

Hermione shuffled in from the door that connected her chambers to his. She smacked her lips groggily as she dragged her feet sleepily. The scent of mint told him she'd already done her morning hygiene routine, but she still wasn't very peppy— not that he wanted peppy so early in the morning. He watched her in silence, watching how she and her serpents made the tea, from sniffing the containers using the scenting with her tongue to the more human nose. Learning what scent was which was her first task as her apprentice along with lab safety, but she was able to scent even how old a certain jar was by the scent of what lay within. It was more than most could do. He could, but he wondered if that was because of his being Mythborn— even from the start.

Chicka, the strike-happy boomslang, stuck her head deep into the tea tin, causing Hermione to admonish her for getting "serpent stuff" into the tea. The other serpents pegged her on the face, driving her out, and Hermione scooped that part of the tea into "her" teapot and used "clean tea" into "his." The tea mix she made seemed perfect, just the way he liked it, and apparently she liked what he did, except for one added bit of fruit in it.

Severus, personally, didn't mind a little serpent drool in his tea. He'd heard there were places in the world that paid extra for that sort of thing. Exotic teas, they called them. They could make a business out of that, if they so chose. She'd never have to worry about having a roof over her head the rest of her life. He liked that idea. She, of all people, deserved to have a safe place to sun on a rock, or whatever it was she wanted to do— free of people who couldn't or wouldn't understand her. After all she'd been through, she still thought well of people for the most part.

Gryffindor House was starting to— perturb her.

Penny the copperhead was carrying the sugar cubes sack as Ash the black mamba poured the hot water over the leaves. Nag and Nagaina set the teapots on the table as Dundee slipped the tea cosies over each pot. Hermione, in the meantime, set out the cereal and milk.

Both of them had been used to life without House Elves, so setting stuff out for themselves was hardly a chore. Hermione, of course, didn't want to petrify the Hogwarts staff, which was admirable in its own way. There were times Severus wondered if petrifying the whole staff would make things far less stressful— if a bit dull.

Peaceful, but dull.

All and all, not even one year in, he and his new apprentice were getting along far better than he'd expected it to go. She had learned he wasn't the heartless prick everyone thought he was, and he had learned she wasn't the handwaving know-it-all swot with no common sense that everyone thought she was.

Draco, who had truly proven that all he really needed was a real friend who wasn't afraid to tell him that his shit stank, had actually shown quite a bit more level-headedness now that Hermione was on the "right side of the fence."

Before, he would go around sticking his hands into things he shouldn't, driving Lucius mad with all the things he had to keep from literally grabbing him by the face and shaking him— a Hand of Glory, for instance. Thanks to Hermione, Draco was learning to listen more before doing something unseemly or downright stupid.

Draco, Severus knew, wasn't a complete imbecile, but he did have quite a bit of entitlement to get over or, as Hermione put it, "get over yourself, you're not Merlin's gift to planet Earth." Oddly, that only seemed to make Draco think Hermione was better because she had a spine, unlike some Slytherin whose bravery lasted as long as no one was around.

Severus was of the belief that bravery only got you so far before you ended up dead. Self-preservation tempered bravery so you not only lived to see the next day, but it also made you wise not to stand up and announce "here I am, shoot me with a Adavra to the face!"

She would be that balance if Severus had anything to say about it.

"Morning, Socrates," Hermione greeted sleepily, hugging the basilisk's head and pressing her face to his. "How are you this morning?"

The basilisk yawned, showing all of his rows of teeth. Hermione pulled out one of the bundles in the nearby trunk, tapped it with her wand, and then practically fell over as it enlarged into a giant hog carcass.

"Oof!" she said. "Remind me to do that after I set it down next time."

Socrates nuzzled her with his head and wrapped his jaws around his breakfast, slithering off to enjoy his meal in peace.

Over a hundred feral hogs filled the trunk, and that didn't include the half they had gifted the centaurs. There were, of course, the statuary hogs as well, which now decorated the boundaries of the centaur lands like stoic porcine threats. The centaurs, of course, were ecstatic that their winter larder was already taken care of so quickly, and were equally grateful that they had food to spare after the hogs had eaten and trampled their crops. Peace forged between centaur and he and his apprentice, sending her out for potion ingredients would no longer be a concern. Magorian promised to watch over her when she went looking for potion reagents, and Severus knew the centaur were creatures of their word. They also weren't helpless by any means, and that was something most people neglected to realise.

Despite what the Ministry classified them, they were not beasts. They were sentient as much as a man, with a strong sense of culture. They also had a more ingrained respect for Mythborn due to their own mythical origins as a people. It was something the Wizarding world liked to forget.

"Oh!" Hermione said, startled. "Good morning, Master. Breakfast is ready!"

"You are my apprentice, but you did not have to make me breakfast, Miss Granger, " Severus reminded her.

"That's okay, I like making breakfast," Hermione answered. "It's a lot like Potions, but with tastier results."

Severus' lips quirked upward. "I suppose you are correct."

Hermione beamed and sat down. She bowed her head respectfully and all her headserpents bowed theirs too.

Goddess Athena,

From whom blessings are sent.

We thank you for the food

And what it represents.

Guide my day

And my mind inspire,

That I may do

What you require.

Hermione perked, more alert, and all her headsnakes wobbled with excitement as she gave them each a tasty sausage.

"Interesting prayer," Severus said, having not hear her say it before.

"Firenze taught it to me," Hermione replied. "He said Athena was once so angry with Poseidon for forcing himself on her priestess, that she turned Medusa into a gorgon, that no man or god would ever be able to force themselves upon her again. He taught me the prayer because he said it is good to honour your origins and thank them for their gifts as well as respect them as the gifts they are. I'll admit though— the story I heard of Medusa wasn't quite so kind about it. Daddy used to say—" Hermione frowned, her head serpents drooping. "He used to say that Athena was so angry that she punished Medusa because she couldn't punish another _god_."

Severus was thoughtful. "Many stories are told in the perspective of the people who tell them. Most humans, even magical ones, cannot imagine how becoming a gorgon could be considered a gift. That are you willing to change your opinion and see it as such says much about your strength of character."

Hermione perked, her head serpents opening their mouths with a serpentine grin on each of them. "Thank you, Master," she said, digging into her food.

They ate in silence, but it was not an awkward one. Severus watched Hermione hold out a glass of water for her headserpents to drink from, each taking turns to lap at the water with their forked tongues. Hermione was, he thought to himself, a rare gem of humanity— made even more spectacular by the fact that she wasn't even human anymore.

Once, Severus thought to himself, Lily Evans had been everything good in the world to him. He'd believed she saw the best in everyone. In time he had been proven wrong, but this time— this time he _knew_ he was right.

* * *

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Neville whirled around. "Whu— what?"

Hermione stepped out into the moonlight. Casually, she sat down on the very edge of the Astronomy Tower railing as if she hadn't even noticed Neville anxiously wringing his hands and looking like he very much wanted to throw himself off it.

"I'm just saying," Hermione said. "Tonight is a horrible time to see if you'll suddenly sprout wings. There's not even a decent updraft." She stared off across the Black Lake, her hair rustling in the night air.

"I just can't take it anymore!" Neville yelled at her. "Now that they can't take it out on you, they've gone right back to blaming _**me**_ for everything. Every single lost point for Gryffindor is somehow my fault."

"So, you're blaming me too, just like everyone else," Hermione said, her voice sad. One "strand of hair" seemed to track Neville's movements with nothing less than ire, but Hermione took her hand and tucked it back into the rest of her hair.

"It _**is**_ your fault!" Neville yelled, but then he closed his eyes and dropped heavily into a sitting slump with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

"I think that you are perfectly capable of making up your own mind instead of letting them dictate to you what you should think," Hermione said. "What's going along with the rest of Gryffindor gotten you so far? Torment? Blame? The idea that throwing yourself off the Astronomy Tower is somehow going to help? Sounds like they aren't helping you at all. And what then? Throw yourself off. Who do they victimise next? When you are gone, are they going to pick on little Haley? The only one that had the brass to stand up to people who were years ahead of her?"

Neville's eyes filled with horror at the idea that it wouldn't end along with him.

"Maybe being Gryffindor is about standing up for what you believe in, instead of just going what others believe in. That's the difference between being a lion instead of a sheep that just follows along with the rest of the herd," Hermione said. "Sure, they are showing their daring and nerve alright, but they aren't truly brave. They are only as brave as long as they are surrounded with people just like themselves. A mob. And chivalrous? Hah. Neville, the fact is, most bullies are nothing but cowards who feel the need to put others down to make themselves feel stronger than they really are. Instead of asking yourself what you did wrong, ask yourself why they are so jealous of you."

"What good is knowing you're better at something if they _still_ bring you down?" Neville yelled.

Hermione, all too used to being lashed out at, said nothing, and simply sat watching the waves out over the lake.

"Does lashing out at me make you feel better?"

"Loads," Neville retorted.

"By all means, then, do continue," Hermione said. A strand of her hair seemed to slither outward and take a lunge for Neville's face, but Hermione tucked it away with one hand, petting it down like it was a living thing.

"You're always right there. Thinking you're always right. Just because you read it in a book. Just because you read everything before the rest of us. Have to do it like this. The book says we have to do it like this. The book says that. We're not all books for you to read!"

"Neville, let me ask you something," Hermione said. "What do you think is the opposite of courage?"

"Being yellow. A coward," Neville spat.

"I think that the opposite of courage is conformity," Hermione said. "Why don't you stop trying to be what everyone else wants or what you THINK everyone else wants you to be? Instead, why don't you decide to be what Neville Longbottom wants to be? I think it takes real courage to be your own person instead of letting others tell you what you are or what you should be. I have a feeling that Godric Gryffindor himself would agree with that, don't you?"

Hermione stared off across the school grounds. "You know, I used to think all I ever really wanted was to make my mum and dad proud."

" _ **YOU AT LEAST HAVE PARENTS WHO LOVE YOU!"**_ Neville raged, tears pouring down his throat. "Mine are locked up in a hospital! Trapped in their own minds! They might as well be _**dead!**_ "

"I thought I did," Hermione said quietly. "But after the accident, they told Dumbledore they didn't want me anymore. All my letters returned. All my memories, ash."

"They just dumped you? Why? It was just a potion explosion! Seamus and Lavender got it much worse. They were _**petrified!**_ Madam Pomfrey had to get Snape to make mandrake potion to undo it! So what? You get burned or something? Is that why you have to wear that mask? Your parents just gave you up because they couldn't stand that their baby wasn't perfect anymore?"

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's a bit more complicated than that, Neville."

"How? How can a prissy little girl who found out she had superficial parents possible understand losing your parents who would have loved you no matter what! Who would have given a boy a wand of his own instead a hand-me-down. Who understood him. Who loved him and didn't try to make him into something he wasn't! M—maybe you just didn't work hard enough! Love them enough! Well I'm telling you that if I had parents that could, I would love them so much they would never want to let me go!" Neville's face was streaked with tears.

Hermione said nothing.

"You won't even _**say**_ anything, will you? You're just like all the other Slytherins. Twisting things so it's all about you."

Hermione stiffened.

"Got it right, didn't I? You think you can identify with me? Well you can't! Maybe if I push _**you**_ off, people will treat me with respect!"

"Mr Longbottom, you are now in detention with Professor McGonagall, and she will decide what is the most appropriate punishment for you so there are no— assumptions with regard to my impartiality." Snape's voice was like arctic ice. "Make no mistake, if you were under _**my**_ care, there would be hell to pay, and do not dare to think that I missed the part where you threatened to push my apprentice off the Astronomy Tower. You will report to the Deputy Headmistress immediately, and you will not stop at any point along the way."

Snape stared down his nose at Neville, his fathomless black eyes seemingly like endless black holes. "She made me promise not to take points from you as she attempted to talk you down, and that is the only reason Gryffindor is not losing fifty points for your threat against her life. There will be no next time. Now get out of my sight."

Snape glowered darkly as Neville scampered down the stairs and away, not even stopping as he ran all the way back to the main path into Hogwarts.

Snape's lips curled back from his teeth in a grimace, but his face softened as he saw Hermione's shoulders quaking. Her small sniffles were muffled slightly by her sleeve.

"Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice growing softer.

Hermione turned to look at him, tears on her face. She ran towards him and buried her face against his row of antique silver buttons, sobbing. "Why did he have to say that? I was just trying to help!"

Severus' hand gently soothed her snakes and she immediately seemed to calm, hugging him tighter. "Sometimes, people in pain say terrible things, Miss Granger. Terrible things they do not really mean as they think that no one could possibly understand their pain. It does not make what he threatened right, and you should not blame yourself for it."

"He was going to kill himself," Hermione said with a sniff. "I didn't want him to think he was all alone."

"Sometimes you have to be alone in order to appreciate when you are not." Snape brushed her tears away and soothed her snakes tenderly. "I have already sent word to Minerva. Hopefully she can get through to him and put an end to the more vicious bullying. While I am not so foolish as to think it will go away completely, he must learn to stand up for himself for it to get better, as his type of bullying is due far more to his lack of confidence while yours was because of your greater amount of it."

Hermione fingered some of his buttons with her finger, feeling the engravings on them. "I'm guessing a hug from you isn't going to solve Neville's problems like they do me, either."

Snape sighed, shaking his head. "I think the last thing Mr Longbottom needs now is anything to do with me."

"Or me."

"For now."

Hermione looked up at him. "You think he'll get over it?"

"I think he needs help. Help we cannot give him. He needs help from a peer, someone he respects, and that is something neither of can be."

Hermione slumped, her snakes drooping.

"I think you need to think of something else instead of worrying about Mr Longbottom. Let Her Tabbiness work her magic as she does so well." Hermione sniffed and looked out over the grounds. "What do you recommend, Master?"

Snape let out his breath slowly. "I suppose it is time you saw why the Headmaster thought I would understand your plight better than someone else."

Hermione's eyes widened, all of her serpents perking.

Snape shook his head at her. "Come. We're going to need more room."

* * *

Hermione tried to contain her excitement, but she was practically vibrating with eagerness to see what had remained a mystery. People had spoken of her master's being Mythborn, but no one had told her what he was. Whatever it was was immune to petrification, but as to what that could be made her sift through many different what-ifs.

Cockatrice?

Was there a male Gorgon? No, then he'd be wearing a mask too.

Basilisk? No. Socrates would have sniffed that out.

What was he?

She wanted to know!

She _had_ to know!

Yet, he stood silently on the bank of Black Lake, staring over the waters as if contemplating life's meanings.

"The first time I took this form, I had been tortured," Severus said quietly. My 'gift' came to me at the hands of bullies who had not relented in all the years I had been at school. I changed. They called the Aurors on me. Hit me with about a hundred stunners to the face. I went down seeing my best friend of childhood calling me a monster. I woke up in the holding cells at the DMLE with Amelia Bones sitting next to me. She offered me a job. She wasn't afraid. It was only later that I realised I was but one of many. That Mythborn were not just legend. They were real. I was one."

"Your friend— thought you were a monster?"

"She thought I was a monster long before she actually saw the change. The change only proved it, as far as she was concerned."

Hermione looked into her reflection in the water. "People treated me like a monster long before I had scales."

"It is in the nature of people to fear what they do not understand and to think that which is fear invoking is a monster." Snape closed his eyes, held out his arms as if to catch himself in freefall, and let the change take him.

The blackness of his robes seemed to expand and flow, his shape jerking and filling in, moving, and thrashing. There was a low, rolling growl that shook the very earth. Coils overlapped coils that overlapped even more coils. Scales the size of shields moved past her. Huge fins, wings, or some combination of both rose up above her as the head of great sea serpent looked down upon her— a head that was all wickedly sharp teeth and snarl, enormous glowing seawater-coloured eyes, and a crest of coral-like mane in iridescent obsidian. His tail swished in the air, seemingly woven together of seaweed as dark as the rest of him.

"Sssssssss," the giant serpent said, his fins moved like wings, rippling down his massive body.

"Drakones Troiades," Hermione whispered, looking up at her master with awe. "You were the chosen of Athena too."

He lowered her head to nose her gently, the wind from his nostrils tossing her serpentine hair.

Hermione's expression became ecstatic, and she threw her arms around his muzzle as best she could, burying her face against his scales and whiskers. "We're not alone anymore," she sniffled into his scales, radiating a sort of joyful happiness and a relief that was beyond words.

"Get on," Severus rumbled, his whiskers wriggling against her face.

Hermione gasped as she realised she could understand him.

"Foolish girl," Snape admonished. "Of course you can. I too, am a serpent."

Hermione didn't let that deter her. Her smile was genuine and happy.

He lowered her head down so she could climb behind his crown of coral, and she grasped onto a few to steady herself.

Snape launched himself into the air and then skimmed the surface of the Black Lake at high speed, his fin-wings adjusting to the wind and water. Water whooshed out from under his wake as Hermione squealed in joy as the water washed over her and the air blew it away. Her snakes had all of their mouths open, perhaps to feel the wind, their eyes glowing with their enjoyment. Even Socrates, his body spiraled around Hermione's neck as an anchor, spread his mouth wide to enjoy the feel of the wind and the water.

As the moon rose high in the night sky, there was only the rush of the waves and wind and the gleeful cries of young Gorgon forgetting all her troubles for the night.

* * *

"Very well, Minerva," Albus said with a nod and a sigh. "We do need to take care of this, if anything to guarantee that Mr Longbottom does not resort anything more rash than he already has tonight. He is obviously has been undergoing considerable stress far beyond what is normal for attending a boarding school."

"I have already spoken to the twins, and they have agreed to my proposal," Minerva said. "Their goodwill gives Gryffindor back some points, and between the other professors, we will keep a closer eye on Mr Longbottom as well. I've arranged for them to have a shared dorm room instead of the normally age-restricted rooms."

Albus nodded. "Good. We don't want a repeat of what happened the other night. And Miss Granger? Is she alright?"

Minerva nodded. "Severus says she is fine. She is much more resilient now that she has a safe place to retreat to and friends who are willing to be with her."

Albus nodded again. "Good, good." He stroked his beard. "I had hoped that the removal of Miss Granger from Gryffindor would curb much of the problem, but it seems Gryffindor has become far more apt to blame others than to stand up for themselves. It is a lesson they all need to learn soon. We can't have this school's students tearing each other apart. Rivalry is only natural, but I learned in dismissing the Marauder's actions so long ago that it only made the situation grow even worse."

Minerva crossed her arms, remembering. "We both know that being Gryffindor does not necessarily make you altruistic, Albus."

Albus sighed. "I know, Minerva. It's obvious that the negative trend in points is not providing the proper inspiration to behave better, so do what you need to to ensure something does. Let me know if there is anything further you require on my part."

"It would help, perhaps, if you made a little speech, Albus," Minerva said. "Tell the children about the Founders and how bullying others is cowardly. Let them know they are being watched. More than usual."

Dumbledore rubbed his chin. "Very well. I will take care of it tomorrow morning at breakfast."

"Thank you, Albus."

With that, Minerva turned and walked out, the swish of her velvet robes marking her exit.

"Warrrrrrrfftz!" Fawkes burbled from his perch.

Dumbledore eyed the phoenix. "Whatever are you trying to say, Fawkes?"

"FFzzzbbt!" the phoenix replied.

Albus sighed. "You really need to stop listening to dead space on the wireless, old friend." He peered at his familiar. "And you really need to get on with the burning day, love. You look perfectly dreadful."

Fawkes turned his head away. "Brrggsssttfffaattttfff."

Albus held up his hand. "Fine, fine, but _**I'm**_ not the one molting and looking half starkers."

Black eyes glared a hole into the back of Albus' head.

"You can stop giving me the death glare, Fawkes. You're so touchy when you're about to burn."

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself with a brightly coloured fluff ball nestled next to her face. "Muh?" she mumbled.

Her headsnakes drowsily looked around, tongues flicking.

Two beady black eyes stared at her straight to the face, and Hermione's eyes widened as she realised her mask wasn't on.

"W— where did you come from? Are you a Fire Quail?" Hermione sat up, waking Socrates, who lifted his head blearily.

The fluff ball stared at her.

"That's a phoenix chick, or a phoenix that just Burned," Socrates said. "It's so hard to tell with phoenixes."

The chick had a crest of crown-like feathers on his head, and they rose up as the chick walked up Hermione's arm and settled on her shoulder.

Her headsnakes inspected the interloper, poking it with their noses, but the chick yawned and closed his eyes.

Hermione rubbed her head, jostling her snakes. "Uh… doesn't Headmaster Dumbledore have a phoenix?"

Her headsnakes seemed to shrug.

"Erm, hi," Hermione said to the chick. "I'm Hermione."

The chick warbled. "I'm Fawkes."

Hermione blinked. "You can—"

"Don't be silly. Everyone can talk. You just have to be able to understand the language. Mind you, just because you can say something doesn't mean you have something worth saying."

Hermione gaped. "But you're a phoenix. I don't know phoenix."

"Common ancestor," Fawkes peeped. "Some of us went the winged way. Some of us lost our legs.

"Why are you here?" Hermione asked.

"Albus wanted to know if you were ok."

Hermione cringed.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him anything. I wanted to check on you myself," Fawkes said, preening his fluff. "I'll just make funny noises and drive Albus a little nuts."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said, relaxing a little.

"It's a beautiful day outside," Fawkes said. "You should enjoy it before the storms come."

"Storms?"

The phoenix nodded. "Storms always seem to come after a Burning Day. Not sure why."

"Burning Day?"

Fawkes hopped into her palm and floofed. "Phoenix thing. Snakes shed. Phoenixes—"

"Spontaneously combust," Socrates said, tongue flicking.

"Oh," Hermione said. "That sounds painful."

"Not really," Fawkes replied. "It's quite a relief. I get really hungry though." He gave Hermione a meaningful look.

"Oh! Um… I suppose you can eat with us."

Her headsnakes hissed with excitement.

"You're always hungry," Hermione complained.

They hung their heads, rubbing against her cheek.

Hermione smiled. "It's okay. I get to taste dessert multiple times. Just— no more stink bugs okay?"

Her headsnakes nodded in fervent agreement.

"Alright, let's go," she said, scooping up Fawkes and carrying him with her. Socrates poked his head out the door to check to see who was there and then slithered through it, blazing the trail towards breakfast.

* * *

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company O Flaming Fruit-Seeking Lintball?" Severus asked, stuffing a gooseberry into the phoenix chick's wide open beak.

Fawkes gobbled it down quickly, his headcrest rising. "Burning day," the phoenix peeped. "And breakfast."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And breakfast is so hard to come by outside of my quarters?"

Fawkes gave an avian shrug. "I like your quarters. It feels nice here. Besides, I like _her_."

Hermione flushed, passing the breakfast yogurt.

"You just like this place because it's the only place Albus would never expect you to be."

"Hrm, maybe," Fawkes said, scratching his head with his foot. "Can you blame me?"

"You are the one posing as his familiar, Fawkes. You didn't see _me_ volunteering to be his pet sea serpent," Snape chided.

"Don't be silly. Sea serpents hardly fit in an office," Fawkes said. "They aren't exactly portable or inconspicuous."

"Oh and a flaming bird is?"

"Of course," Fawkes replied, preening himself.

Hermione went back and forth watching Fawkes and her master banter. "Are you a Mythborn too?"

Fawkes floofed his downy fluff. "Mmmhmm."

"Wow!" Hermione said excitedly.

Fawkes opened his beak eagerly for more food, and Hermione stuffed a slice of dragonfruit in.

"Mmghfhghthistuffisgreat," Fawkes said.

"So much for that pureblood upbringing and manners," Snape snarked.

"At least _**I**_ don't capsize ships for fun and profit."

"Really? You, the one who has to relive your childhood over and over are going to tell me that my issues are worse, you combustible flying fire hazard?"

Snape's argument was cut off by Hermione taking Fawkes into her hands and cuddling him close, feeding him some cherries.

"I like him, master," Hermione said.

Fawkes pressed his head to Hermione's cheek, eyes twinkling. "She loves me!"

"She does _**not!**_ "

"She will. I have the family charm."

Severus scowled.

"Oh, come on Severus," Fawkes said. "You have to admit I had far more suave than my idiot brother who preferred to think with his c— _**MRFHPHG!"**_ Fawkes glared at Severus, who had clamped his beak shut between his fingers.

"Do try and zip it around my apprentice, lintball. Do I need to give you the lecture about proper behaviour around a young lady, yet again?"

Fawkes sighed. "Sorry. It's been ages since we've had another Mythborn to talk with. And she's adorable. All those snakes. Don't think I didn't miss them nicking all of those shortbread biccies from the Head Table."

The head serpents looked away innocently, wearing their very best halos.

Snape gave him a dismissive wave.

"And the most impressive Socrates, who refused to partner with anyone since— what? Eighteen forty-seven?"

"Hey, I said I'd bond with someone when I was ready to," Socrates said, the tail of something large and rodent-like sliding down his gullet. "The rats around here are huge. What the _**hell**_ are they feeding them?"

Hermione shrugged. "Ronald always fed Scabbers whatever he had on him. Bertie Botts or crisps."

"Weasley?" Fawkes said. "That rat used to be with Percy, as I recall. I don't know why Albus allows it. Personally, I think he pities the family for not being able to afford a decent familiar animal. We thought that Percy had a proper bond with Scabbers, which is why they let him in before, but he gave that ruddy rat up fast enough when he got an owl, so that theory is out the door."

"Given how much leftovers are left after even one meal around here, I'm surprised we aren't feeding a raving army of rodents and the like. It took Minerva arranging to have the leftovers sent to families in need to keep the house elves from just vanishing it all. Terrible waste if you ask me. Good of her to arrange that."

"I like her," Socrates said. "She rubs my eye ridges."

"You, Socrates? You've become a right old softy, you have," Fawkes said.

"Harrumph," Socrates said. "I like not having to be cooped up in a boring habitat in the DoM all the time, thank you very much. No one comes to poke me anymore in the middle of a glorious dream about a sultry she-basilisk."

Hermione flushed, and Snape gave Socrates a glare fit for making Hufflepuff first years cry.

Socrates hung his head in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"You have a—" Hermione flushed. "Foot stuck between your—" She grimaced as she unwedged it from between Socrates' fangs, shuddered, and scampered off. The sound of running water and the scent of lightly citrus soap followed shortly after.

Fawkes sighed. "Still playing with your food, Socrates?"

The basilisk gave a serpentine shrug. "If you can't enjoy your food, what can you?"

"Like you're one to talk, fruit-seeker."

Fawkes did a fast chick-strut over to a large cluster of grapes and started to make them disappear. "Got to stick with what you like, Severus."

Fawkes eyed Socrates. "You didn't use that delightful little witch just to get out of the DoM did you?"

Socrates snorted. "Hardly. She invaded my habitat and slapped me around so hard with just her presence alone that I would have eaten anyone in her name singing her praises."

"I don't see that little witch as slapping anyone around, Socrates," Fawkes said.

"You really should have been there— on second thought, no, that would have been too embarrassing— well, just trust me that I could no more do anything to harm her than I could raise roosters." Socrates' tongue flicked. "She's stuck with me. I will gladly devour her enemies if she'd just ask."

Severus crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm glad she's not one for casually wishing that someone would just die like a lot of children are prone to doing, never thinking that it could actually come to pass."

"You should let her enjoy her day today, Severus," Fawkes said. "Tomorrow it's going to rain hippogriffs. Alway does after a Burning Day."

"You want me to loose a young Gorgon to frolic out on the school green?"

"Why not?" Fawkes said, itching his wings with his beak.

"Because I'd have to be out there with her?" Snape said, scowling.

"Oh come on, Severus," Fawkes said, yawning widely with open beak. "Live a little."

"I may spontaneously combust."

"That's my job," Fawkes said. "Already done."

* * *

"Now that many of you have settled in for the very first time, learned your schedules, and made some new friends. Some of you are glad to come back to the friends you left behind last term, I feel I need to bring up something that has long been a blight upon Hogwarts, and many have believed that because we haven't actually done anything about that makes it somehow perfectly okay."

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his beard. "I stand up here today to tell you that bullying is not okay. Bullying is, and always has been, the craven act of a true coward. People who hide in groups to justify their despicable behaviour are not any better. Blaming others is not what makes things take a turn for the better. Hard work is, and that means bucking up and supporting your fellows regardless of age."

Dumbledore's famed twinkling eyes had hardened until they resembled frozen chips of blue ice.

"Now, since we are all committed to ending bullying here at Hogwarts, there have been a few new policies that have been implemented. However, since I am sure that all of you recognise the seriousness of this situation and will not partake of it, I should not have to lay it out word for word. Instead, let me encourage you to extend your assistance, to offer your kindness and the hand of friendship to all those around you. You might be in different houses, but that does not mean there is a line you are not permitted to cross. It does not mean if they are in a different house that they are your enemy. Points are a measure of teamwork, or that is what they _should_ be. In fact, in order to ensure this lesson sinks home, all Hogwarts teachers will be awarding points not for just the usual things but specific acts of teamwork. Teamwork between Houses will earn both of those houses more points. Now, negative points can and will still occur, so this is not an excuse for not being suitably prepared for your classes."

Dumbledore frowned. "Now, on a more positive note, Quidditch tryouts begin next Monday and all those who wish to try out must have a signed approval from Madam Hooch that you have completed basic flying safety course and a signature from each of your professors that you are in good standing academically in each class. All those who are approved are welcome to come and try out. After all, we cannot expect you to survive in the world with only clever broom tricks to your name, now can we?"

"Oh— and one more thing before we begin to dig into our most delicious breakfast," Albus said. "I know there has been some debate amongst you all as to whether it was truly me that made the announcement earlier this month that Hermione Granger is Professor Snape's new apprentice, and I will confirm for you all that indeed was me and that she most certainly is. For those of you who have read your copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , you are aware that such formal apprenticeships date back hundreds of years, and the relationship between master and apprentice is quite sacred. While I am sure that none of you would be quite so unwise as to treat Apprentice Granger with anything less than the appropriate respect due her role, I will take this moment to remind everyone that anything that might be caused to befall Apprentice Granger can and _will_ be addressed by her master, Professor Snape. You may all rest assured, if there is any question as to the total seriousness of all this, that I will reinforce anything Professor Snape decides in double if it comes under question."

Albus perked. "Do enjoy your breakfast. We will delay your first classes for twenty minutes to allow you to finish your meal and get to class."

"Quirrell, are quite you well? You look a little peaked to me," Minerva asked the flighty professor.

"Wh-whu-what? Oh!" Quirrell replied. "Just thinking about my class."

"You might want to go see Poppy, my friend," Minerva said with concern. "You're sweating quite a bit."

"Oh! I'm sure I'm fine, P-p-professor McGonagall," Quirrell said.

" _DEATH_ will come upon you, child!" Trelawney droned over Hermione. "For you will soon feel the stone cold embrace of the grave!"

Hermione froze in place with a raspberry between her fingers. Her hair froze in strange positions, seeming to stare at Trelawney.

"You cannot fool me! The trappings of darkness soaked in the blood of the pure shall cover the true face of evil!" Trelawney wailed, waving her finger like the gnarled branches of the Whomping Willow.

A curl from Hermione's mane seemed to lash out at Trelawney, and Trelawney instantly recoiled.

"Cursed spawn of darkness!" Trelawney accused. " _YOU_ do not belong with Severus!"

Suddenly there was a brightly coloured phoenix chick perched directly on top of Trelawney's head.

 _Splat._

"Ewwwwww!" the children in the front rows cried simultaneously, giggling.

Fawkes peeped imperiously from atop Sybil's head, scratched her head with his feet, and hopped back over to Albus, diving into his long beard.

Albus stroked his beard and his ornery phoenix chick. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, Fawkes, but I hope you don't make a habit of relieving yourself on my staff."

"Bbbsszzzttrrffzzz!" Fawkes said, mimicking the wizarding wireless again.

Albus sighed and ate his blueberry breakfast torte.

* * *

"Master?"

"Hrm?"

"Does Professor Trelawney _like_ you?"

Severus stared down at the sopophorous beans on his worktable. "Unfortunately."

"You don't like her?"

"Apprentice, I don't think _anyone_ likes her," Snape replied, rubbing the space between his eyes.

"But she's a teacher."

"Not for her skill," Snape said. "I am not saying you should not treat her as respectfully as you are able, but you should probably not take anything she says to heart."

"She teaches— Divination?" Hermione asked, taking the small vial of something from Nag and the silver knife from Nagaina.

"Teaches is a loose word for it," Snape said with a sigh.

"You don't believe in Divination?" Hermione asked, pressing her silver knife down on the sopophorous beans and guiding the juice into the vial.

"There are times, perhaps, that Sybill has given true prophecy, but she is not like her ancestor, who was a true Seer. She is, most of the time, a charletan," Snape explained. "The problem is, for what she has said that was right, some would kill her, and Dumbledore did not want her death on his hands, for it was to him that one of her true prophecies came into light."

"Oh," Hermione said as she squeezed the last of the juice from the bean. "Master?"

"Hrm?"

"Is Neville okay?"

"He is doing somewhat better now. The Weasley twins have taken it upon themselves to ensure that Mr Longbottom does not do anything overly stupid on their watch," Snape replied.

Hermione sighed with relief.

"I am sorry we had to cut your frolicking on the green short today," Severus said. "Unfortunately Filius gave out no less than ten detentions this morning, and five of them were with me."

Hermione corked the vial of bean juice and brought it up to him. Snape held it up to the light and squinted.

"That's okay, Master," Hermione said. "I got to sun myself a little. It felt really good on my scales. My head serpents loved it."

Snape's lips tugged upward. "The juice is adequate, but let me show you a trick so you do not get any pod pieces in with the juice. It will not matter in for the purposes of any class we'll be using it in, but later, when I have you brewing things, it will."

He plucked a bean from the jar. "Now, use aguamenti to fill a small lid and place the beans in it. Let them soak for say— five minutes. It will be the time it takes to check if you have the other ingredients sorted. Take them out and place them on your board as before, and use the flat side of your knife to squeeze out the juice. Now, fill a pipette with pure alcohol top to the top of the rubber and drop it into the vial. Watch."

Hermione's eyes widened as the juice replaced the alcohol, leaving the bits of matter on the bottom of the vial.

"Now you can put what is in this pipette into a pure vial," Snape instructed. "And it will be doubly concentrated. If a recipe calls for ten drops, use five. If it calls for one, use one of the miniature droppers."

"Yes, Master!" Hermione said.

"Good, clean up as my detentionees shall be here soon," Snape instructed. "Be sure to put on your mask."

"Yes, Master!" Hermione said cheerfully, going about the cleaning of her work station. "Do you always have detention in the afternoon?"

Snape sighed. "It was a special request by Filius."

"They must have done something really bad," Hermione said, hastily cleaning her cauldron and arranging all the beakers and potion set ingredients to their normal position.

"First to test if the anti-bullying rules were a joke," Snape said. "They found otherwise."

"I didn't expect Headmaster Dumbledore to respond so quickly," Hermione confessed.

Severus sighed. "He was not always so concerned, I will admit," he said. "I am glad, however, that he is willing to embrace change."

There was a knock on the lab classroom door, and Hermione immediately pulled her mask over her face and tucked her serpents back under the glamour.

"Well, it seems you have not wasted any time testing Professor Dumbledore's reminder to treat your fellow students with respect," Snape said, eyeing each student with a scornful gaze. "Since you seem to be unable to contain your hostility, I will assist you in giving you something to occupy your obviously insufficiently taxed minds and bodies with— something suitably constructive to do."

The five students peered at the potions master with nothing short of total submission, their faces twisted with guilt and shame.

"Apprentice Granger."

"Yes, Master."

"Please turn the board and give our guests their assignment."

"Yes, Master," she replied, turning the board around to expose:

* * *

 **Strip leaves and shave outer skin from fresh stinging nettles. Collect spines and place in jar. Place the leaves in your cauldron and steep them in distilled water heated to precisely 181 degrees C for 60 minutes, stirring 5 times clockwise, then 5 counterclockwise during the entire brewing time. Then collect the solution that results and bring it to me for approval.**

 **-or-**

 **Scour cauldrons until they sparkle. You may use soap, water, and scrub brushes only. You may leave when all the cauldrons are clean to my satisfaction. This may be a group activity.**

 **-or-**

 **Craft a replacement working, usable, table and chair set completely identical to the ones you destroyed in Professor Flitwick's classroom this morning.**

 **-or-**

 **(Group Activity) Collect a jar full of bouncing spider juice. Spiders must remain alive when jar is turned in. Terrarium filled with African Purple Spotted Bouncing Spiders is located in the back of the classroom.**

 **Note: Do not irritate or otherwise injure my spiders, and I** _ **will**_ **be able to tell if you have manhandled them.**

 **-or-**

 **(Group Activity) Clean the attic above the potions storage room. All fresh flobberworm mucus is to be gathered into clearly labeled containers.**

 **If you do not complete one of these tasks to my satisfaction by the end of this detention, you will have detention with me every night until the ENTIRE list is completed.**

* * *

Severus leveled a dour face at the students. "Whether you are working solo or as part of one of the group tasks, you may leave once you have completed that task to my satisfaction. You may now— begin."

Severus eyed Hermione, who was cooing at a purple bouncing spider who very happily, gleefully even, donated a full drop of its venom into a pipette for her. The other spiders, which were jealous of their clutter-mate getting all the love, scurried over her, eager to donate venom for love.

"Eee!" Hermione said, falling backwards, giggling.

"Apprentice," he said, trying to make it sound angry.

"Yes, ehehHEHEHEHEH Master?"

"Put those spiders back into the terrarium for our guests.

"Yes, Master," she said.

He noticed how she gave each of the jumping spiders pets on their back before shooing them back into the tank. The spiders, seemingly overly reluctant, slowly moved back into the holding habitat.

Severus sighed. It was hard to make punishment seem like punishment when your apprentice befriended the African Purple Spotted Bouncing Spiders.

* * *

"Severus," Minerva said.

"Hrm?"

"Why is my daughter covered in giant purple spotted bouncing spiders?"

"Would you prefer if they danced?"

Minerva's lip twitched, shadowing a whisker rustle.

"If you must know, she befriended them during detention, and now they won't leave her alone." Severus flipped the parchment he was grading over. "They practically took off the lid of their enclosure to get back to her once detention was over."

"Aren't they—"

"Venomous, yes," Severus said. "Don't worry, you'd have to squeeze one really hard to get it to bite you with the real horrible venom, and they can take a lot of abuse before getting brassed off. The little buggers are disgustingly happy. Besides, she's immune. I wouldn't give them as a task during detention if I thought they would actually harm them if someone was overwhelmingly stupid. That clutter is probably the most obnoxiously helpful batch of spiders I've ever raised."

Minerva watched as Hermione flopped on her stomach and flipped through a giant tome.

"Oh, this one looks nice," Hermione said to a dark purple spider. "What do you think?"

The spider cooed and squeaked indignantly as its clutter mate nudged him over to join him on the rim of the book. Meanwhile, some of the spiders seemed to be making quite a friendship with the headsnakes, and even Chicka seemed to be calmer with a bouncing spider friend.

"Making Bouncing Spider Juice again?" Minerva asked.

"Unfortunately, I was out," Severus replied. "I had forgotten I had used the last of it treating Hagrid's 'mopey thestrals'."

Minerva lifted an eyebrow. "I thought they came that way."

"Hagrid claims they were mopey."

"It's no wonder you forgot," Minerva mumbled. "I'd want to forget spending time on that too."

Severus snorted. "If this keeps up, she'll never be able to get them back into their habitat. They'll follow her to the ends of the earth."

"They are immune to petrification?"

"One of the few spider species that are. It's probably why they are so happy all the time."

Minerva rolled her eyes.

"If you were to believe it, they are related to the spider species that helped Athena when her clothing was damaged in battle. They repaired her chiton with their silk and wove her a new peplos to keep her warm. In gratitude, she gave them her blessing— the first blessing to the spiders since she cursed Arachne into a spider— to be immune to the gaze of Medusa, her high priestess."

"Do you believe it?" Minerva asked.

Snape gave her a sidelong glance. "They are immune."

"That does not answer my question."

Snape shrugged. "It would be unwise of me to denouce Athena as myth when evidence of Her hand is so very close, hrm?"

"Spoken like a true Slytherin."

Severus shook his head. "How fortunate that I am. Besides, Minerva, is your name not also a tribute to goddess Herself?"

"I never said I didn't believe, laddie," Minerva replied.

"You're brilliant!" Hermione cried, scooping up the larger of the bouncing spiders and planting a kiss on it's back.

"Eeee!" the spider squeaked and ran around in frantic happy circles.

Hermione rushed off to the potions table setup and frantically started to throw in ingredients. She waited, headserpents peering in and hissing to each other. She threw in something, stirred it once and waited again.

She picked up one of the bouncing spiders and stuck a pipette to the end of one fang, getting some of its precious venom, then she held it out and got a sample from each of her serpents. Tinting her head to the side and using a mirror, she stuck the pipette on the end of one of her fangs and gave her own donation and shook the collected venom cocktail up and dripped it in the cauldron, stirring anti-clockwise.

She stared at the bubbling mixture, frowning. "It needs something."

She stared some more. "Oh! Socrates!"

"Hrm?" the basilisk raised his head from the book he was reading. "May I have some of your venom?"

Socrates opened his mouth wide and Hermione stuck her head in, sticking a pipette on the end of one of his smaller fangs. "Thanks Socrates!" she said, dripping it into her potion cauldron.

"Nuhproblehm," he muttered, licking his fangs before closing his mouth.

The cauldron's mixture stabilised into a golden liquid as a shimmering snake jumped up from the cauldron, chased by a potion spider, and a flurry of other serpents formed from the potion itself.

"Apprentice," Severus addressed.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Yes, Master?"

"What did you make?"

Hermione decanted a vial of the potion and stoppered it, handing it to him. "It's either a highly stable anti-venin or a really potent poison," Hermione said.

"And you aren't sure which?"

Hermione looked sheepish. "I'm ninety-eight percent sure it's a highly potent and stable anti-venin. I used the bouncing spider venom to bind the other venoms together and combined it with a dittany chaser. It's all in a blood replenishing potion base that when in contact with magical physiology, should treat any snake bite either by ingestion or topically."

"What is the other two percent?"

"I could kill you painfully in a matter of seconds."

Severus eyed his apprentice and the new potion. "I suppose we should find a way to test it without killing someone, hrm?"

Hermione looked hopeful.

"Store the rest," Severus said. "If this does work, Amelia will want you to share it with her agents in the field."

"Yes, Master!"

"Miss Granger."

"Yes, Master?"

"If this works, you can choose one spell of your choice you wish me to teach you."

Hermione's face brightened, all of her head-snakes standing straight up with excitement. The bouncing spiders jumped up and down on her shoulder and from atop her head with glee. "Thank you, Master!"

* * *

"What inspired this?" Amelia asked as the alchemists ran the potion through a varitible gauntlet of tests.

"An African Purple-spotted Bouncing Spider told her why everyone loves their venom," Severus said calmly.

Amelia tilted her head. "And what reason is that, for those of us who are not buried in Potioneering?"

"It spreads through the bloodstream faster than any other substance we can create. She had the idea that if it is used in potions to deliver medicine that it could also be used to deliver anti-venin. Combined with the Blood Replenishing Potion and Dittany, it had the potential to make for a mix that could be used in battle to stop both repair damaged skin, prevent scarring, and— cancel out some of the most fatal venoms known to Wizardkind before they could get to the brain and do to people like the boomslang bite did to Ms Skeeter." Severus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She's rather amazing, yes? Even if it doesn't work, she still had to try it because it made sense to her."

"You said she used every venom she had on hand to craft it?"

"All the ones she had access to."

Amelia smiled. "That's a lot of venoms."

"Quite."

Amelia chuckled as she watched Eleanor teaching Hermione some new spells to keep her entertained. "She is quite something, Severus. Piers has been in a slump since she left with Socrates— or Socrates left with her. He'd been trying to get some glimmer of cooperation from that basilisk for the last forty years. I think he feels being outdone by a twelve year old is a little demeaning."

Snape snorted. "Had I the kind of encouragement at her age, things would have been interesting."

"Of that I have little doubt, but you wouldn't have charmed Socrates," Amelia mused. "I think those two were meant for each other. Besides, his language is much better not that he's with her. He's such a potty mouth. I think the poor sap at the Exotic Familiar Registration Office babbled nonsense for a week after we filed the paperwork to release Socrates with a small girl that might just blow over in the wind."

"He didn't even know what she was, I bet."

Amelia smiled. "No, not really. Oh, we have the goggles for his eyes whenever you want to to bring them down and have them fitted. Should resize as he does and make things easier if not safer. I mean, he's still a giant venomous snake, but at least he won't petrify anyone by accident. It's the intentionally we have to worry about."

"Thank you," Severus said. "He had that makeshift blindfold, which helped, but it wasn't perfect."

Amelia nodded. "Did Albus have any issues with Socrates?"

Severus snorted. "Albus has changed since back when I was a boy. He seems to realise whatever it takes to make Hermione happier and more well adjusted means she'll do great things instead of becoming me."

"Mr Stormcloud raining down on his parade?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "That too. She may yet rain on his parade, but she will be brighter and more cheerful as she does so."

"Did she say why she wanted to make this new potion, Severus?"

Severus tilted his head thoughtfully. "She wanted to make me proud."

"Are you, my friend?"

"Most assuredly," Snape replied, his pale fingers brushing his chin.

* * *

"So, you're the one who liberated Socrates," the grizzled Auror said with a grunt.

Hermione stared at Moody and his madly darting eye. "Hullo." She bowed her head respectfully, but her head-serpents continued to peer at him without bothering to be polite about it.

"I'm Mad-Eye," he said with a snort. "You can call me Alastor. I don't like all the poncy titles."

Hermione stared at his multitude of scars and his eye, seeming to take them all in. "You have so many scars."

"I've survived a whole lot of horrible, lassie," Moody said. "If you're lucky you will too, only with far less scars to show for it."

"You're an Unspeakable?"

"Auror, officially," Moody said. "Makes it a lot easier to just show up at a scene and boss people around."

Hermione giggled.

"I see you and Severus are getting along swimmingly," he said. "If the dreary fashion sense is any indicator."

Hermione patted her robes. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nah, lassie. Nuthin' wrong with it. You'll part crowds like the seas, I'm sure. Severus will teach you right. But—" Alastor pulled a lolly out of "space" handing it to her, "outside of here, I'll be a bit harder to get along with."

Hermione frowned even as she accepted the sweet treat from him.

"He means that we go at it like fire and petrol," Severus said, giving Alastor the eye.

"Hah!" Moody replied standing. "Good to see you, Severus," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I hope the old man isn't driving you batty."

"According to the school, I am quite the bat already."

Alastor gave him a look of sympathy. "You see, lass. The two of us have a sort of act we have to put on out there in the world. Out there, I treat him like he's the scum of the Earth."

"Here, I treat him l ike's he's the scum of the Earth," Severus quipped.

"Har, har," Moody said, shaking his head. "You're Slytherin now, aye?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then you know how it is. The outside face. The safe-place face, hrm?"

Hermione smiled. "I understand. It's like wearing my mask, only less obvious."

Alastor smiled. "Good lass. You take care of old Socrates. He's a pain in everyone's ass, but he'll keep you safe."

The basilisk hiss-snorted, but he extended himself to rub against Moody's fingers.

"Travel-sized now, eh Socrates? Suits you. No one will see you coming."

Socrates hissed his approval.

"Not sure if you know this, lass, but basilisks are considered a XXXXX beast by the Ministry of Magic. They say they are only bred by Dark Wizards, that they are a wizard-killer, cannot be domesticated— blah, blah, blah." Alastor smiled at her. "The truth is a bit more complicated. Most basilisks are unredeemable because they are, in fact, bred by Dark Wizards. They aren't properly socialised. They never learned right from wrong. After a certain time you really can't help them. Like a feral animal. Socrates here— he was born when a young witch was trying to breed Magicae hens and some lunatic tried to drive her out by raining down on her with a toad plague."

"So he hatched a basilisk," Hermione said.

"Aye, lass." Alastor rubbed his chin. "Unfortunately, the young basilisk killed everything on that farm with his gaze, but that's how the Unspeakables found him, caught him, and brought him here. He'd um… ate all his brothers and sisters."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at Socrates.

Socrates hung his head. "I was _really_ hungry."

"No killing or eating my family and friends," Hermione said with a scowl.

Socrates tongue flicked her nose. "I won't."

"So, that's why my master made him look like a different snake to other people?"

Moody nodded. "You're allowed him, lass. He's your familiar. That bond is as sacred as they come. No one, not even the Minister for Magic can take him from you. But it's best that he doesn't scream basilisk out there any more than people aren't quite ready to realise they are sharing a school with a Gorgon."

Hermione nodded. "I understand."

"Good lass," Alastor said. "Eleanor teach you anything fun?"

Hermione beamed. "Watch!"

She concentrated really hard and her head-snakes disappeared into a blur of _Disillusionment._ "I'm still working on the rest of me."

Alastor hooted laughter as he slapped Severus on the back. "My friend, you have a keeper."

Snape crossed his arms across his body and harrumphed. "Obviously."

* * *

"So, what is it, exactly?" Severus asked.

"Miraculous!"

Snape eyed the alchemist with a raised eyebrow. "Care to be more specific, by chance?"

"Remember those hippogriffs that were all scarred and lame from Cruciatus? The ones McNair supposedly "found"?"

"Yes, and?" Snape said.

"Look for yourself," the man said, gesturing to an observation window. "They were on their last legs. Master Barnsworth said they had maybe a week left in them. They made good test subjects because they were looking at being euthanised just so they didn't have to suffer anymore."

Snape looked through the observation window, his eyebrows rising. "Where are the injured ones?"

"Those _are_ the injured ones."

"Well— that certainly changes things."

"Severus, this isn't just an antivenin," the wizard said. "It's an honest-to-goodness magic potion and a total game changer. If this works for humans like it does for hippogriffs, this could help people that have been in Mungo's for decades. I mean, you can't restore memories that just plain gone, but people could learn again. Have a chance at a normal life."

"You want more potion to test, don't you, Master Healer Flagstone."

"Please, Severus," the wizard pleaded. "I _want_ to do this. If this is the real thing— I want it tested right. Make sure it's safe. You know I can do it. I have patients that aren't going to make it through the night. They have no other option. No other treatment that might give them any bit of hope. They're left to die, painfully, horribly—"

Snape pulled out another flask of the golden liquid from his robes. "Be careful with it, Master Healer. It may be a fluke. We have yet to test if she can make it again."

The wizard took the flask reverently. "Bless you, Severus," he gushed, hurrying off down the hospital corridor.

* * *

 _ **Wondrous New Potion Treatment**_

 _ **Clinical Trial For Last Chance Cases Only**_

 _Master Severus Snape and his apprentice, Hermione Granger have developed a new treatment based on exotic venoms— a treatment that shows great promise in magical creatures and a handful of human patients that it has been tried on. However, it is still in a very strict testing phase and is open to human testing only on last chance beyond all hope trial basis._

" _The results have been far beyond anything we could have possibly hoped for," Master Healer Benjamin Flagstone stated. "We are highly optimistic, but we are also cautious. So far we have only tested it on last resort patients whose treatments with every other possible method was already exhausted. That being said, we have patients recovering from complete paralysis and regaining the ability to remember again after undergoing severe brain trauma."_

 _Healers with patients with dire conditions who think this new treatment is the only hope for the people in their care are encouraged to contact Healer Flagstone with a description of their patient's condition so it can be determined whether they fit the criteria for this particular trial._

" _We can't guarantee miraculous results," Flagstone said, "but to those who have no other option but death, this treatment may prove invaluable."_

* * *

Hermione released the final drop of Socrates' venom into the cauldron and stirred anti-clockwise, waiting. The cauldron shimmered, burbling violently, but then immediately calmed like the surface of a placid lake. Serpents jumped within, formed by the liquid, in a golden arch.

She stepped back from the cauldron, looking to her master for a cue as to what to do, but the room came a live with applause. Healers, dressed in their most formal garb, clapped.

"Ladies and gentlewizards," a healer announced from the podium. "This is the repeatable potion you have all heard about, the Caduceus Elixir, the healing of the serpent. While it's creation, as you have seen, can only be done by Master Snape's apprentice, Hermione Granger, you will also understand what a rare treasure it is. We will be attempting experiments on creating it without her having to slave over a cauldron, however we are treating this creation as the gift it is."

"She is not a resource to be squeezed and milked, and her Master is not to be begged for exceptions to the standard rules for use of the elixir," the Master Healer continued. "Everyone who is present today is sworn under magical oath not to reveal the secrets of its making for the safety of the young apprentice who made this all possible. However, we are happy to report that every patient that has been treated has responded well."

As the people swirled around them, Hermione buried herself into Severus' dark robes, hoping to make herself inconspicuous. She was glad that her master was taking all of the questions and protecting her from the interrogation and the full brunt of the limelight. She loved that her potion worked— better than worked— but she knew it was pure luck that had gotten her as far as she had. Luck and her master's hand, guiding her in so many other small exercises that had allowed her do what she did. The rest was the varied venoms of her large array of serpents, which was hardly her expertise.

Fame, Hermione had decided, wasn't for her. As long as her master was happy with her, she was more than happy. She didn't care that her name wasn't in lights as big as her master's at all. He guided her, protected her, and taught her, and ever since she'd become his apprentice she had learned the true face of her master. She felt safe in his care, and she felt he would not decide one day that she was not human enough to love.

Perhaps, she thought, her desperation had made her cling to whatever approval she could get, even from a man such as Severus Snape, but she dismissed it. He did care for her. He did protect her, and all the people from the Unspeakable family seemed to think highly of him— something the outside "world" did not.

How a person could be so much the same and yet garner hatred from one side and admiration from another was beyond her. But then, she remembered that once, she too, had thought him cruel and beyond likeability. The potions, the meetings, the social functions— all of it was another stepping stone to her future, and she took her cues from her master to learn how to act, when to bow, when to burrow into his robes, and when to stand independently. She felt more confident to stand by herself because she knew what it felt like to stand with someone supporting her.

It felt good to be understood. It felt good to have someone she could burrow into— safe from harm. Safe from a world that didn't understand her.

As she looked up at her master and saw the minute quirk of his lips into his version of a broad grin, Hermione snuggled into his side, playing the part of the shy apprentice but ultimately rejoicing that she'd made her master happy.

Under the cover of his black robes, his hand gently touched and soothed her snakes. Hermione felt the shiver of pleasure and contentment and smiled, closing her eyes. Let the years come. She was ready to be the very best student she could be— as long as it ended with the tug of a smile on her master's lips and the feel of his warm hand on her head.

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh come on. This is me you're reading. You didn't think I could write a story without including happy spiders of SOME sort, did you?


	4. Striking Distance

**A/N** : Chapter 4: Whee!

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Striking Distance**

 _Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way._

 _Jean Anouilh_

* * *

"Hey, Hermione," a familiar voice said, causing Hermione to pause.

"We just wanted to say we were sorry," another voice said.

Figures moved out of the shadows, their heads cast down.

"Yeah, we're sorry for having, you know, done all that stuff to you."

Hermione frowned, suspicious.

"Look, we know you don't have any reason to believe us, but we wanted to show you something. A peace offering."

"Look, you can come see it. Take it or leave it, but—" one of the students said. "We _did_ make it just for you."

One of them tossed something at her, and she caught it automatically to avoid having it hit her on the face. It was a shiny button, silver, and so very, very familiar.

"Did it work?" one of them whispered.

"Ssssst!" another said.

"Come see, Hermione," one of them said, pushing the other out of the way. "You'll come, won't you?"

Hermione blinked dazedly. "Yeah, I guess."

"This way!"

"Yeah, it's this way."

"There was something I had to do," Hermione mumbled.

"Naw, don't worry about it, this will be way better."

Hermione blinked, confused. She rubbed her head, shaking it.

"Follow us."

"Troll! Troll! Back to the dorms!" voices cried. Hurried shuffling rang out down the hallway.

"Cormac, there's a troll in here! Let's do this later!"

"No! We've planned too long. Come on. This will be perfect."

"Come on, Hermione," Parvati cooed. "No hard feelings, huh?"

Hermione, strangely befuddled, shuffled behind them.

"I spent three weeks in detention just so you could get that stupid button! This had better work!"

"Shut it, Roderick. It _will_ work."

They led Hermione down a quiet hall and into the girl's lavatory. Inside, a polished statue of a snake waited, surrounded by lit candles.

"You like it, Hermione?"

Hermione stared blearily.

"You should totally touch it, Hermione."

"Yeah, touch it."

Hermione's hand slowly went towards the statue.

A strand of her hair fell over her ear, and Hermione's eyes began to clear. "Whu-what?"

"Fuck! It's fading!"

"Quick, let's get out of here."

"No! She has to _**pay**_ for what she did to us!"

Cormac jerked Hermione's over to the statue and forcibly placed her hand on it— where it stuck.

"Come on, let's get out of here!"

Hermione screamed.

Fire ants were streaming out of the statue's eyes and mouth and stinging her. Every bit of exposed flesh had an ant on it, and the angry ants were taking it out on her. Her hair was writhing as madly as she was, but her hand was stuck to the statue. She couldn't escape.

"Come on, let's get out of here before she gets free."

"She won't," one girl said, her eyes filled with malice. "It's a _permanent_ sticking charm."

"Come on! There's the troll! We have to go now!"

They fled the room, some with reluctance and some with haste only to find their way blocked by a very large, very smelly troll.

The other children screamed, some trying to cast spells while others tried to flee. Hermione, however, shrieked in pain— the sound of her agony echoing throughout the girl's lavatory.

 _Crack._

 _Crack._

 _Rattle._

The sound of something moving was almost covered up by the troll angrily slamming his club as he swatted a few of the screaming students across the room, stopped only by the wall. They fell to the ground, moaning in pain. When all the moving screamers had finally been silenced by the troll, he turned to Hermione and raised his club. Hermione, however, didn't see him. The ants had covered her entire body.

The troll moved to slam his club into her.

 _ **SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssssssss!**_

A blur of black fury slammed into the troll even as fangs the size of swords were buried into the troll's head. Scales on top of scales on top of scales curled around the troll's body and squeezed mercilessly. Murderous sulfur orange eyes blazed with rage.

Yet, even as the troll struggled in vain to escape, the coils drew tighter. Tighter. _TIGHTER._

 _ **Crack!**_

The troll's spine finally snapped, and its body went limp.

" _ **SSSSSsssss!"**_ The huge serpent flung the troll to the far wall with a loud crack.

It lowered its head down, staring at the shrieking girl, mouth gaping with fangs dripping and orange eyes glowing hatefully. The ants all fell to the ground, dead instantly.

Hermione whimpered, crying, her one free arm trying to beat on herself to get rid of the ants as if they were still there. Her mask lay on the ground, and her eyes were shut tight— even in her pain, refusing to possibly kill someone with her gaze. She cried, falling to her knees, her hand still stuck to the statue.

The basilisk tongue flicked, pegging the girl on the face.

One free hand touched the basilisk on the muzzle. "Socrates?" Hermione sniffled, feeling the basilisk's face as her head snakes recovered enough to see for her. Hermione stared through her snakes' combined vision. "You're not Socrates."

The basilisk nudged her with its nose.

"You're a _she_ -basilisk." The basilisk opened her mouth wide and clamped her jaws around Hermione—

… and then released her, having coated her with a thin layer of venom.

Hermione's skin, swollen and bitten by ants, healed, easing her pain. The venom worked around her stuck hand, and her hand came free, leaving behind a thin layer of shed, scalelike skin behind. She quickly grabbed her mask, putting it back on, soothing her head-snakes as she hugged the basilisk's head. "Thank you!"

"Ssss," the basilisk replied. "You called. I came."

Hermione's eyes widened with wonder. Her head-snakes rubbed up against the newcomer, checking her out.

Footsteps neared, and Hermione flung herself over the basilisk's head. "Don't kill them!" she pleaded. "Don't kill her!" she pleaded to the professors as they ran around the corner to find Hermione flung over a basilisk's head, the carcasses of a thousand score ants dead on the floor, a very dead and quite smelly troll, and several unconscious students crumpled on the floor by the far wall.

Hermione quickly wrapped her outer robe around the female basilisk's eyes as Professor Snape kept the other professors from walking in to their deaths. When the snake's eyes were well and truly wrapped, he let them pass.

"What in Merlin's overgrown toenails is going _**on**_ in here?" Flitwick cried in a squeaky voice.

Severus, however was too busy staring at a dark stairwell leading down into the darkness below Hogwarts— the path having been made plain out of the old fountains.

"I think, Filius, that we have just discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

He eyed the newly unearthed basilisk. "And its guardian."

Hermione, her pain now forgotten, was being tickled by her new friend's forked tongue. She giggled and hugged the basilisk's head, squealing with delight as the serpent raised her off the ground like a ride at the amusement park.

Quirrell came rushing in, screeched to a halt as he saw the corpse of the forest troll, and immediately passed out.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Amateurs."

* * *

"How long were you down there?" Hermione asked.

"I do not know. Your screams for help woke me up."

"Do you have a name?"

"Salazar called me Zanique," the basilisk answered. "He bade me guard his secret place until another voice could command me."

Socrates' red head feather rose and fell with his curiosity as he stared at the other basilisk. "Why do all the exciting things happen when I'm not around? I should never have left your side. I could have eaten someone for you!"

"You had to hunt, Socrates," Hermione admonished. "I don't blame you. And no eating people!"

Socrates sulked.

"You were Salazar's?" Severus asked.

The basilisk nodded. "Was. Now I am yours, my lady."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Mine, but—"

Hermione looked to Severus, hands wringing. "I'm don't think I'm allowed to have two basilisks!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Who, my apprentice, is going to stop you?"

Hermione slumped sheepishly. "I don't know. Someone! You're beautiful and powerful and I don't deserve you!"

Zanique sigh-hissed. "You may not think so, but maybe I think so, hrm? You managed to wake me up after— how long has it been?"

Snape tilted his head. "A few hundred years, give or take a few hundred more."

Zanique poked Hermione with her snout. "Don't you like me?"

"You're wonderful. Like Socrates."

"Between to the two of us, we can protect you all the time," Socrates said. "No more of this funny business being ambushed in a bathroom." He eyed Zanique. "Well, save for one happy outcome." His red feather raised as he admired the female basilisk.

"Well, before that happens, Zanique needs her own pair of stylish serpent-shades. I hardly think going around covered in your robes is going to suffice."

Hermione grinned, kissing Zanique and Socrates on the nose only to get pegged twice from both sides from giant basilisk tongues. " _ **HehehEHEHHEHEHE!"**_

"Severus, is it safe to come in now?" Minerva's voice said.

"Yes, Minerva, come on in."

The deputy headmistress came in and went directly to a chair to sit down. "I think I need a stiff drink."

"Troll carcass dealt with?"

"And that lot of bullies," Minerva said grimly. "Albus had Moody come and pick apart that serpent statue trap they crafted. Ugliest piece of horribleness I've seen crafted from student cruelty in a long time."

Severus sighed, handing her some tea. "I will admit, the Marauders at least waited a few years before attempting to murder me."

"Albus is talking with Alastor about some sort of summer program to set them straight. As it is, Poppy is busy trying to mend their bones. Both Albus and Alastor agree that keeping Hermione out of the limelight in this would be best, not to cover up the situation but so as to not to bring undue attention to her, especially with our new friend, yes?"

"Hullo," Zanique said, lowering her head down.

"Zanique says hello," Hermione translated.

"Hello," Minerva said, holding out her hand for the basilisk to "taste" her scent.

The large serpent rubbed against her hand. "I will remember you."

Hermione smiled. "She said she'll remember you."

"That's a relief," Minerva said. "As it is, none of the bullies saw or remember anything once they were trolled into a wall. That is the only good thing that came of it. Hermione, dear, you don't mind that we aren't bringing you up during all this, do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't mind. I prefer it."

Minerva smiled. "Come here, your mam needs a hug, and I think I need to make sure you're okay for myself."

Hermione grinned and ran up, hugging Minerva tightly.

The tension in the elder witch seemed to finally ease. "After that first round— I thought after their parents were informed and the shame would keep them in check, but—"

"You couldn't have known," Snape said. "Even _**I**_ underestimated the hatred and scorn they kept for my apprentice, and I tend to recognise that sort of thing all too easily."

"Oh, here, Alastor gave me this for your new friend. He said you'd know what to do with it." Minerva handed Hermione what looked like an elongated pair of shades.

Hermione bounced and smiled. "Your new shades are here, Zani!" Hermione said, beckoning the basilisk.

Zanique lowered her head and let Hermione wrap them around her eyes, tugging and adjusting them for her.

"Not too tight? Comfy?" Hermione asked.

The basilisk pegged her with her tongue.

"Ehehhe!" Hermione hugged her. "There you go. All safe for public consumption."

"Public consumption?" Minerva asked, eyebrows raising. "Someone has been spending too much time with publicists at the Ministry."

Socrates and Zanique mirrored each other, bobbing their heads and swaying like reflections in a mirror.

"Good thing Albus gave me clearance to expand my quarters as needed," Severus said, rubbing his nose.

Minerva smiled. "We'd all be jealous if we didn't know exactly why you needed it."

Snape harrumphed, waving her off.

"I think Amelia has Unspeakables cataloging everything in the chamber as we speak," Snape said, stifling an impressive yawn with the back of his hand. "They'll be busy for months, I'm sure."

"Well, even Albus has to admit that a place like that needs to be preserved, but the school needs to kept safe, so if there are any other dangerous things down there, they'll soon be found. Maybe, one day, we'll be able to open it up to students to see a piece of history."

"What did Salazar have down there, Zani?" Hermione asked.

"Treasure beyond imagining. Tomes. Knowledge. The history of the school. The very first students and teacher lists. The first masters. The first apprentices. Underground fungus gardens that glow in the darkness. Fountains that purify water. Inventions—magical wings you could wear instead of using brooms. Many things."

" _ **Wow!"**_ Hermione said.

Minerva gave Severus a look, and he translated for her.

"There was an invention my old master made," Zanique said. "A statue with his locket. In place, it would allow all of Hogwarts to understand the language of snakes within its walls, but when he was forced to leave Hogwarts, he took it with him saying that no one that remained at Hogwarts deserved the privilege anymore. That was when he bade me sleep the decades away, waking only when called or when the wards were tripped."

"Amazing," Hermione said. "Are you hungry? Do you need a feral hog?"

Zanique's tongue flicked. "I could eat an entire wagon full of people."

"I hope hogs will do," Hermione said with some concern. "It's frowned upon to eat people."

"Pity," Zanique said. "What if they are already dead?"

"People find that even worse," Hermione said.

"Humans are strange creatures."

Hermione patted Zanique on the nose. "Come on, I'll take you out to the hunting place. "Master, do I have permission to take Zanique out hunting?"

"Go on, then. Say hello to Magorian for me."

"I will, Master. Thank you." Hermione wrapped mini-Socrates around her neck.

Zanique seemed to get a look of intense concentration before her body shrank down, and Hermione picked her up and wrapped her around her neck too.

"Do not bring home any more basilisks," Severus said.

"I won't, Master," Hermione said with a giggle and dashed out the door.

"No fear. that one," Minerva said admiringly. "Even after being attacked, she's right back out that door."

"Damn Gryffindor traits. I'll have to stomp harder."

"Psh," Minerva replied. "She's my daughter now, Severus. Now she'll have the stubbornness of the Scots in 'er too."

Snape pinched his nose. "Now, _**I**_ really need a drink."

* * *

Hermione yawned she sat next to the fire in the centaur camp. Some of the foals were feeding her head-snakes, and she got to taste a few different types of food vicariously through them.

"The rumours travel far, young Hermione," Firenze said. "Are you quite well?"

Hermione shook her head. "Zanique used her venom to heal me. I didn't even know she could do that. I don't feel it anymore."

"But you are not suffering now?" Magorian asked, smiling as one of the foals squeaked as her head serpents tickled her.

"No, I feel—" Hermione looked skyward. "I feel better. Something told me something was off, but then something happened. Next thing I know, I'm totally covered in fire ants. They were stinging me all over, even getting under my mask. I didn't want to kill them. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped I could keep them shut long enough for help to come. I had no idea they hated me so much."

"Humans do not like what make them feel mundane, ordinary, Hermione," Magorian said. "They seem to shun it with much ferocity, just as strongly as centaurs do not wish to be judged mere beasts of burden. But, like all muscle twitches, sometimes we let them them lead us by the nose and sometimes they lead us by the tail before we know any better. We centaurs are not perfect, Hermione. We have our judgemental moments just as the humans do, but the one thing we do not do. We do not tolerate violence to foals. Every herd from here to Greece and beyond. All of them are this way. This includes foal-on-foal violence."

Hermione smiled as one of the foals backed his rear up to her to keep brushing since she had stopped. She laughed and brushed him more attentively.

"Magorian, I must go patrol," Firenze said. "Hermione, I will come back to escort you to Hogwarts after I make sure the edges of our forest are safe."

"Thank you, Firenze," Hermione said.

"You're staying with us?" a filly asked.

"Looks like it."

"Yay!"

Hermione promptly found herself buried in happy young centaurs— and she wasn't complaining one bit.

* * *

"Friend Hermione, are you awake?"

Hermione blinked blearily, sitting up from the miniature herd of foals. "Mugh?"

"There is something unnatural out in the woods tonight, but it is magical in nature and not something we normally deal with." Firenze knelt down on his forelegs. "Get on, friend Hermione. Speed is necessary, and you are a cherished friend. I am permitted to carry you back to Hogwarts when such danger comes to call."

Hermione nodded and pulled herself up onto his back. Firenze waited to make sure she was seated properly. "Hold tight to my mane, little one."

Hermione curled her fingers into his thick mane. "I'm good."

Firenze took off into the dark of the forest, knowing the path without needing to see it, hurriedly carrying his precious passenger back home to Hogwarts.

* * *

"Why are you out here, Draco?" Harry asked. Fang whined fearfully, channeling his inner coward.

"Your buddy, Weaselbee," Draco said. "Caught me out after curfew trying to sneak a book out of the library."

"You have detention because you were sneaking a book out of the library?"

"No, Scarhead, I have detention because I was caught _sneaking_ a book out of the library," Draco said with a sigh.

"Must have been a really great book," Harry said.

"It was. I really wanted to finish it," Draco said.

"If it makes you feel any better, Ron was given detention because he was out past curfew getting you in trouble."

"That does make me feel better, I'll admit," Draco said.

Harry snorted. "I guess I'm impressed he wasn't one of the ones ambushing Hermione in the haunted bathroom."

"Snape isn't going to let her go anywhere without bodyguards," Draco said. "Good thing her bodyguards are portable. I'm glad you weren't apart of that fiasco. I"d have to murder you and hide the body, and hiding the body is pain in the butt."

Harry made a face. "Thanks, I think."

Draco averted his eyes. "She's… special. Not just because she's Snape's apprentice. Not just because she's in Slytherin where she belongs. You should see my father with her. He's much kinder. Thoughtful. He listens to me now because he listens to her. She— listens to him too. Like I should but don't. But, I'm not jealous. I feel like I have a sister. Someone to teach. Someone to distract the parents from me once in awhile." Draco gave a small shrug. "Mum is afraid she'll petrify me though. Do I look stupid enough to make her angry at me? Don't answer that, Potter."

Harry gaped like a fish. "I wasn't going to—"

Draco glared at him.

"I swear!"

"Mum is— I know she loves me and all that but— she didn't even want my father to give me a broom because I might fall off."

Harry blinked. "Harsh, man."

Draco blew his hair out of his eyes. "She's special, okay? Even if I can't expl—"

"No, you're right, Draco," Harry said. "I get it. I'm just glad she got out of Gryffindor before something even worse happened because no one would stand up for her. She couldn't even sleep in the dorms, yeah? Her own house. I tried to talk to her, but— I let Ron drag me off to do things. I told myself she'd be fine. Maybe, I even thought if I kept Ron away from her for a little bit, it'd help some."

Draco frowned. "She says you're all right, so I guess I should give you a chance."

Harry sighed. "You don't have to make it sound like such a terrible chore."

Fang whined loudly, and both boys instantly snapped to attention.

"What are we doing out here anyway? Alone? No adult supervision? In the Forbidden Forest with dog that is afraid of his own shadow?" Draco complained.

"Sometimes I think detention is actually a way to make people disappear through convenient accidents," Harry speculated.

"I mean, okay, so Hagrid says there are injured unicorns out there. Unicorns, right? Big and fast animals with a really long and pointy horn. They aren't like… little pixies or something. Would we really have a fighting chance against something that could injure or kill a unicorn?" Draco shuddered.

A terrified neigh was abruptly cut off somewhere nearby, and Draco and Harry both tried to grab for Fang's leash, but the frightened dog had already bolted, yelping piteously the entire way.

"Useless dog!" Draco moaned miserably.

"I'm not even sure that's really a dog," Harry said, wrinkling his nose in frank disgust.

Harry and Draco dove behind the nearby log , tried to slow down their rapidly beating hearts, and then peered over it carefully.

A lone figure, cloaked in dark robes leaned over the carcass of a dead unicorn.

"Is that Snape?" Harry blurted.

"Is he _eating_ a unicorn?" Draco asked and then glared at Harry.

Harry made a face that seemed to translate as 'it was a pretty good guess anyway.'

The figure turned, blood masking the face completely. He snarled, running across the ground so fast that he seemed like a looming spectre. Harry and Draco screamed together as an equine scream and a golden horse body flew over head, jumping the log.

Firenze roared, rearing up on his hind legs as a small figure slid down from his back.

Firenze backed up against the log. "Children, close your eyes, _**NOW!**_ "

Having learned that closing your eyes was a good idea in the company they kept most recently, both boys did as Firenze bade without hesitation, burying their eyes in their robe sleeves.

Hermione flung two things from her neck onto the ground, but even as the two serpents began to grow much larger, their sulfurous eyes glowing fearsomely in the dark—

Hermione pulled back her hood and removed her mask. Her head serpents writhed with glowing magic, their eyes glowing a fluorescent green together. Her eyes went from dark gold to the radiance of a brilliant sun, filling the grove with the beams from her now-exposed eyes.

 _ **SssssssssssSSSSSS!**_

Hermione bared her teeth, fangs exposed as her tongue flicked out.

The black-shrouded figure fell to the ground where it had stood, totally petrified.

Hermione quickly covered her face and her eyes, pulling her hood back over her head as she recollected her basilisks, and they entwined around her neck once more like layered torques. She panted heavily. "You can look now, it's safe."

Hagrid came running into the clearing at full tilt. " _ **Draco? Harry?! Where are yeh?"**_ he bellowed and then he tripped over the petrified figure, landing face first into the leaf litter.

"Hermione?"

"Firenze, are you okay?"

"I am fine, friend Hermione."

Firenze stepped delicately over Hagrid's body and lifted the cowl off the spectre's face. He frowned.

"Professor Quirrell?" Draco and Harry cried together?

A wash of unicorn blood still stained Quirrell's face.

"To drink of a unicorn's blood will save your life even if you are but a moment from death," Firenze said, "but to kill a unicorn is such a crime against nature that to drink its blood is to pay an even worse price than death."

The stomping of hooves alerted them as the patrols arrived to join them.

"Firenze? What happened? We heard your yell." Bane stomped his hooves as he looked around, scowling at the human foals and the half-giant.

"That was the thing preying upon the unicorns," Firenze said, pointing to the petrified Quirrell. "The foals were with the half-giant, on some task when they stumbled upon the scene."

"We should inform the teachers at Hogwarts," Bane said decisively. "Firenze, can you take friend Hermione to the school and explain what happened here?"

"Of course, Bane."

"Put your hand on my back, little sister," Firenze said. "We run together."

Hermione said nothing but did as she was told, running alongside Firenze, who kept a slower pace just so she could keep up with him.

"And you two," Bane said, curling his lips at the children, "can tell me why two foals are just wondering the forest at night waiting for the Furies to swallow you up?"

Harry and Draco said nothing, but they both pointed at the unconscious Hagrid— obliviously snorting leaves.

* * *

 _ **Internal Memo**_

 _ **To:**_ _Unspeakables, Every Rank_

 _ **From:**_ _HBOY, Amelia Bones_

 _The petrified almost-corpse of one Quirinius Quirrell, ex-professor of Hogwarts, is being contained off-grounds as safehold A535-1F2 just in case there is some sort of Dark magic homing beacon attached to it that we have not previously encountered._

 _Matron Poppy Pomfrey of Hogwarts discovered a second face on the back of Quirrell's head, and that face, unlike the front, seems to be anchored to the body of Quirrell. While it "lives" on somehow, Quirrell is not in any fit state to run away._

 _We have reason to believe from the face's rantings that it is, if fact, that of You-Know-Who. Seeing as we have no evidence either way, we are treating it as though it is, placing the entire body in stasis in case there is even the slightest possibility of some sort of post-death magic body-hopping possession taking place._

 _For those of you out in the field, I want you keeping an extra sharp eye on any and all possible Death Eater activity. For those of you serving as Death Eater double agents, I need whatever reports you can give nightly via a security-coded Patronus, owl, plague of locusts, smoke signals, or whatever else you can send me._

 _I have dispatched Alastor to Hogwarts to go through all of Quirrell's personal possessions, so anyone working on that detail with him, stay extra sharp. Quirrell managed to fool even Dumbledore somehow, concealing his Dark magic from him, and I want to know how this could happen. Dumbledore is hardly a neophyte wizard._

 _Quirrell wanted something at Hogwarts, and I want to know what and why— especially if that second face IS that of the supposedly long-dead You-Know-Who. We will be running magical trace scans on the face to see if we can match it to previous traces of YKW's magic from his reign of destruction from the first war. Results will be shared as soon as we have them._

 _Stay sharp, people._

 _Be safe._

 _For those of you who have apprentices, make absolutely sure that they are never left unsupervised out there. There is no telling what the Death Eaters may do if word gets out that their Lord is back in the running, even if they don't know the whole story._

 _Oh, and if you would like to bake Severus' apprentice some biscuits for giving us this opportunity, her favourites are double chocolate shortbreads and iced ginger biscuits._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Amelia Bones, HBOY_

 _P.S. I want all the apprentices taught Apparition as of yesterday. If something horrible is going on, I don't want them cowering under logs, I want them to be able to escape. No excuses. We'll be crafting Home-Port-Keys that will be wearable, but nothing beats Apparition when there isn't a jinx preventing it. Get this done by the end of the month._

 _P.S.S. Annual Bake Sale next week. Don't forget. Speak to Agnes Peabody if you want to bring in sweets. I'll grant a free day-off for the raffle winner. Don't forget, the big prize for the raffle winner is a Nimbus 2000 courtesy of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company as a thanks for clearing up that unfortunate mess in the cursed broom polish incident._

* * *

Hermione woke up, glad to know that her ability to turn the living into stone finally had a purpose that she could fathom. There was petrification, and there was very literal petrifications— the statue making kind, and there seemed to be some confusion as to what or who did what, when, and how. There wasn't much in the way of Gorgon information— Merlin knew she checked— and most of it was myth in a non-incident-based study.

She could understand it, but it was frustrating to a young Gorgon who didn't have a mother or father Gorgon to learn from. She did have Eleanor, and that was a big relief, but even Eleanor was a different branch of the family tree. Her snakes were all non-venomous, and her gaze petrified in a way that could be cured with a Mandrake Potion or just outright killed someone, but the flesh didn't actually turn to stone. She was much like the basilisk.

Hermione, however, had seen that her gaze had quite literally turned Professor Quirrell into a statuary. Well—most of him. There was that fleshy part of him that resembled some other guy's face.

You Know Who, Amelia had called him.

She wasn't to say his name because there was some sort of magical geas tied to it. Something bad. Something that could be traced back to you.

It was the last thing Hermione wanted, so she started thinking of names to call him that didn't require hyphens or breaths in between.

Creepface.

Vonderdork.

Paratio.

She liked Paratio. It sounded like Horatio, but it also sounded like parasite.

It was definitely shorter that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Come on, if you _really_ wanted people to say a name and not bring attention to yourself, couldn't you be a little bit more creative? Though, from what Alastor had said, most people were so scared of the wizard, they didn't want to call him any name.

She stretched a little, rolling about in Socrates' coils which sent the purple-spotted bouncing spiders bouncing like popcorn before they settled back around her again, tucking themselves in all sorts of places to make sleep more comfortable. Her sleep, specifically. She was pretty sure they didn't mind where they slept as long as they weren't being set on fire or frozen to death.

Her master had tried to put them back in their habitat, which had always sufficed before, but every morning they'd be tucked around her like a bed of living moss— eight-legged sentient moss. With eyes.

Snape had said she spoiled them, but he didn't make her force them back in the cage unless they had to be there for class, to which they would begrudgingly shuffle in, if only to spring back out as soon as class was over and find her wherever she was in the school. Sometimes they'd glide by her on a raft of soap suds in the bath, and there were times they even offered her a bar of soap.

It was hard not to love them. They were so helpful. Even her head-snakes liked them. She was pretty sure each snake had a favourite spider mate, and they plotted mischief and biscuit thievery together.

Snape found it amusing, even if he didn't outright say so. Hermione knew if he was well and truly irritated, he wouldn't hesitate to say something.

Hermione mumbled, pressing her face into a pile of fluffy spiders.

"Eeee!" they cried, They hugged her face with their legs and snuggled up to her.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning!"

"Morning!"

Every headsnake gave a large morning yawn and picked up a spider as Hermione got up and scratched her arms sleepily.

"If this is my first year, what will the other years be like?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Either really calm," Socrates said.

"Or really chaotic," Zanique said.

"I wonder what a normal life is supposed to be like?"

"Normal for you is this," Zanique said. "Why fight it?"

Hermione scratched her head. "You're probably right. I can't imagine sitting in a library alone like I used to."

"Don't you like us?" a spider peered at her from atop Nag's head.

"Of course I do," Hermione said, leaning in to give both Nag and the spider a kiss on the nose and the back respectively.

The spider cheered, raising its legs in celebration.

"Well, I guess it's time to face the day," Hermione chuckled.

She pulled on her robes and shuffled out into the next room right into— an explosion.

"Master?" she squeaked, looking around. "What's wrong?"

"The price of success, Apprentice," Severus said. "Some healers from Mungo's sent a list of people with whom they wish to try the treatment. Some of them, are not dying, but they are at the end of their treatment options. They wish us to meet with some of the petitioners and get their stories on why they think it's worth the risk."

Hermione frowned. "Though it hasn't. It could kill them. Surely they _know_ that?"

"Some think it worth the risk to a lifetime of nothing."

Hermione sighed. "I wouldn't ever want to be in such a position, trying to decide if someone I cared about was better off risking death for a chance to recover." Hermione sat down in one of the chairs and stifled a yawn. "How many of these interviews are there?"

"Twenty," Snape said. "Ranging from cases that have been around far too long to those that are dire, indeed."

"And none of them feel like they can wait?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"The healers have whittled the list down from well over a hundred cases. These are the ones that were left. Are you up to sitting through the interviews? Since you are the one that makes the potion, ultimately, it is your choice as to what you have time for. I have told them I will stand by your decision regardless of what it is. You should not feel obligated that just because you have a possible solution that you must exercise it now. And, Miss Granger—"

Hermione lifted her head. "Yes?"

"Do not feel like one particular answer will earn either my approval or disapproval. The choice is yours alone, and I am happy with either outcome."

Hermione smiled, brushing her head-snakes back. "I guess I should look into the list. Every patient we help adds another notch to our potion's rate of success ."

"As you wish," Snape said, saying nothing more, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips as he picked up the next round of scrolls.

* * *

"Please, you must let me see her!"

"Mrs Weasley, it is two-thirty in the morning," Dumbledore said, adjusting his purple sleeping hat and his spectacles. He shifted in his chair and frowned. "What could possibly be so important?"

"My Charlie! He's _**dying!**_ He has to have the treatment!"

"I am very sorry to hear that, but as I understand it, Mrs Weasley, that treatment is still in a highly uncertain testing phase," Dumbledore said.

"We don't _**care!**_ It's the only chance my Charlie has!"

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I highly doubt that you do not care, Mrs Weasley. I do, however, question whether you are in a fit state to make such critical decisions. Why are you here and not at your, or rather, Charlie's healer?"

"He's treating my Charlie!"

"So he _IS_ being treated."

Molly wrung her hands. "That's beside the point!"

"What, then, is the point?" Dumbledore asked. "I'm not trying to be unkind, Molly, but you're asking me to wake up not only one of our professors but his twelve-year-old apprentice as well."

"This has nothing to do with age or privilege! This is a _**life!"**_

"And you can tell me that you'd be here advocating the same if it was someone else's child?"

"Albus!" Molly pleaded. "Please! This is my Charlie! My _**CHARLIE!"**_

"Molly, you realised the position you are putting me in? If let you in, which I have, and you wake up all of Hogwarts, you will have just started a trend that will have every mother or father in wizarding Britain with a family crisis arriving at all hours to ask some sort of favour."

" _ **Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!"**_ Molly screeched. "My family has known yours for ages! I'm not asking you to break any rules! I am asking you to help save a life! My boy's life! My Charlie's life! For Merlin's sake, Albus! After all we've done to support you! The Order! The—"

"Molly!" Albus snapped, his eyes hardening.

Molly wrung her hands. "Please, Albus, please! I'm begging you! I don't want to have to tell my sons that Charlie is dead!"

"What do you mean, mum?" Fred and George blurted as they walked in with Percy, escorted by the Head Boy. Ron came stumbling in behind, sleepy and extra groggy.

"What's wrong with Charlie?"

"Is he dead?"

"He _can't_ be dead!"

"What happened?!"

"Nothing!" Molly cried. "Your Headmaster was just explaining to me how he won't help your dying brother!"

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ the boys cried together.

"We have to go visit your brother in the hospital in Romania where he's going to _**DIE**_ even though there is a cure here! Right here at Hogwarts!"

"I believe it is now time for you to leave, Mrs Weasley. Your sons are all excused from class for the entire week. I expect them back by the start of next week."

"Albus, please, I'm sorry—"

"No, Molly, you are not sorry. You are not sorry at all," Dumbledore said quietly. "You may use my office Floo to transport your family to St Aloysius."

Molly abruptly seemed to realise she had just burnt the very last bridge she had ever wanted to. Then she and her sons quickly disappeared into the green flames of Dumbledore's floo.

* * *

"Tea, Mr Weasley?" Hermione asked as the Weasley patriarch sat down in what was normally "her" seat.

"Yes, please, my dear, thank you," Arthur gushed, his hands trembling with fatigue.

Hermione waited for Snape to re-enter the room, having spoken with the healer that was on Charlie's case.

"How are you, Hermione?" Arthur's face was tormented and tired, but he still managed a smile for her.

"Good, I guess," Hermione answered, not sure what the proper answer was right now or if he was really asking her such a question.

"I was sorry to hear what my youngest son put you through, truly."

"It's not your fault, Mr Weasley," Hermione said gently.

Arthur seemed somewhat dubious, but he nodded in acceptance. "It's kind of you to think so."

As Arthur sipped his tea, Hermione tilted her head, seemingly listening to something Arthur couldn't see. "I think perhaps Molly and I put so much pressure on our children to follow us that we forget they are their own people. We expect them to be in Gryffindor, but there are times I wonder if they'd be better suited in a different one. Ron, especially. I never wanted him to think that if you weren't in Gryffindor that somehow you were a failure."

"It's okay, Mr Weasley," Hermione said. "I was picked on even when I was in Gryffindor. My master says that some people want find reasons to pick on a particular person, even if it's based on a lie. After a while, they even come to believe it."

Arthur flinched guiltily. "He would know."

Severus returned to the room with a soft whoosh of cloth, the Romanian healer beside him. "Thank you, Master Snape," the master healer sighed. "I would not have come to you if I did not believe the case to be dire indeed, and we have, since this morning, exhausted all other treatments. The burn unit can only make him comfortable, but his body is already going into shock."

Snape nodded, pulling out a small vial of golden liquid from one of the many shelves. "One drop to the burn bath every fifteen minutes. Do not add more or it will cause a cascade that goes too fast. No matter _how_ dire his condition. It must be introduced to his system very slowly as he is far too weak yet to heal himself. Too much too soon and he will in all likelihood die from the stress. Keep him on the life supportive spells. All this comes from St Mungo's Master Healer Benjamin Flagstone, with whom we've worked with extensively. If you have any questions, he has been notified to expect your Patronus.

"Given the seriousness of his condition, you may need to keep in him the soaking bath until he's entirely stable, but again, I would contact Flagstone for the specifics."

" _Mulțumesc,"_ Master Healer Petrescu said, clasping Snape's hand and bowing his head. The healer rushed up to Hermione and knelt, taking her hand and pressing his lips to the backs of her hands. "Bless you for your potion, Apprentice Granger. I know we were not on the list to receive the serum to test, but I thank you for allowing us to have some for Mr Weasley."

Hermione flushed pink but shook her head. "I hope it helps. It's so new. There's no guarantee—"

The healer clasped her hand and smiled. "Sometimes we must remember that we are wizards but we are also people of great faith. I have faith that it will work. Are you one to pray?"

"I have learned to pray to Athena," Hermione admitted.

"Then I shall leave an offering to her as I thank her for you," the healer said warmly, giving her a gentle hug. " _Mulțumesc_ ," he thanked her.

With that, the healer swept towards the floo, stepped in, said something in rapid Romanian, and vanished in a fwoosh of green flames and Floo-ash. Arthur, seeming to realise that something highly significant had just happened, dove in after so quickly that he Flooed away with his tea cup still clutched tightly in his hand.

Hermione eyed her master with some confusion.

"Thank you," Severus said. "You may not realise this, but you have proven you are a far better person of moral character than most. Even if Mr Weasley does not spread the tale, Healer Petrescu certainly will, so when the time comes that you need a favour, my apprentice, you will have far more to work with than the blind hope that someone thinks highly enough of you to grant you assistance."

Hermione rubbed her head-snakes and then smiled.

* * *

"Ooo! What's in the hamper?" Theo asked curiously as he thumped down beside Hermione and Draco. He let his legs dip into the water and kicked them out a bit.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "My master said it was lunch and we are not to make craven swine of ourselves and eat it all at once."

"That's Snape, alright," Theo laughed.

"Odd not to see more Gryffindors out making stupid on the green," Pansy said.

"I think they are being overly cautious after what happened to the bullies," Blaise said, staring with disapproval at the carp latched onto his toe.

"Well there is the entire real-life basilisk thing," Draco said. "Authorised with specialised shades or not— most people don't really respond well to the idea of giant snakes that can petrify you with a mere glance."

"Any snakes, really," Pansy said, idling scratching a fuzzy purple spider under the belly.

"Eeeee!" the spider cooed, hugging Pansy's fingers in gratitude.

"Speaking of idiots," Blaise said. "Where the hell are Crabbe and Goyle?"

"No idea," Draco said. "I think they are allergic to African Purple-Spotted Bouncing Spiders."

"Really?" Pansy said. She coaxed a few more spiders into her hands and pet them more openly.

Blaise snorted. "Gosh, Pansy. You'd think you didn't like them."

"I'd like them to keep away from me, thanks," Pansy grumbled. "They are Slytherin's answer to Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom in Potions class."

"I heard they turned their mice into matchboxes but the matchboxes were all burnt," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

"You heard correctly," Blaise laughed. "Flitwick started yelling at them in that squeaky voice of his because they turned the floor into ice by accident."

"Trying to do what, exactly?"

"Make a feather float."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Their own worst enemies, I tell you."

"I think the squid is sad," Hermione said. "No one is playing with him today."

"We could go over to that side of the lake, if you want," Draco said. "We can just move the hamper and blankets—"

"And Pansy's huge honking umbrella!" Blaise teased.

"Shut it, Zabini!"

Blaise chuckled and stood up, folding the blankets.

The trip to the other side of the lake took only a few minutes, and by the time they had replaced their "base camp" all the children had jumped into the water with glee. The squid had found a ball to toss, and the basilisks eagerly teamed up with the squid to play keepaway.

"Not fair!" Draco sputtered as the squid promptly pegged him with the ball. That had, of course, resulted in everyone else pegging him with the ball too.

Draco spouted water like a fountain, looking quite disgruntled.

The children teamed up trying to get the squid and the basilisks set up as living waterslides, and they squealed with glee as they zoomed down the serpent's backs only to be drawn up by the squid and cast down its long feeder tentacles.

"Hey! Is there any room for me in all this fun?" Harry complained good-naturedly from the shore.

The Slytherins exchanged glances just before playfully pegging Harry with every ball they had.

"Oi! Hey!" Harry laughed, sloshing into the water, shivering a little as the colder water shocked his system.

"You're just lucky that Hermione vouches for you," Theo said. "Otherwise we'd sic Blaise on you."

Blaise harrumphed.

The squid interrupted the conversation as it dragged all them under just long enough to cause them to sputter while getting back to the surface. The happier squid seemed much more playful than the usual, having finally found playmates that didn't move away to other parts of the lake.

"Hey, Scarhead, where is the rest of Gryffindor anyway?"

Harry rubbed his perpetually messy head. "I think they tried to take over the other side of Hogwarts and got ambushed by a giant tree."

The others exchanged wide-eyed glances. "They're out there getting the daylights beaten out of them by a _tree?_ "

Harry sighed. "I honestly don't know. They don't really tell me much of anything anymore. Ron told a whole bunch of people that I was 'fraternising with the enemy'."

"Big words," Theo said. "Does he even know what that means?"

Harry just shrugged. "He thinks he does."

"Browl!" Fang stood at the shore of the lake, his tail wagging furiously.

"What are you doing out here, boy?" Harry called to the boarhound.

Fang woofed, playbowing.

"Well, come on in then," Harry invited. "You'll probably smell better after a nice dip anyway."

The boarhound leapt in, paddling around. No sooner than he was in the water, a raft full of purple spiders drifted by carrying a bar of soap and they set upon the dog in a flurry, scrubbing him down so fast that Fang didn't even realise he was clean until he seemed startled that he didn't smell the same anymore.

Pansy snickered into the back of her hand. "That was totally worth it," she giggled.

Harry chuckled as Fang slogged back out of the water just in time to shake, shake, shake, shake all over Hagrid.

Hagrid stood dripping wet, leaving new trails of clean across his dirt-covered face.

The bouncing spiders seemed to get a look of intensive concentration on their faces, multiple fangs clacking together as they pondered something.

Suddenly the squid reached out to wrap its tentacles around Hagrid's legs and drag him into the water, and the spiders leapt upon him, all carrying soap bars, and they lathered him down in a huge cloud of suds.

The children scurried out of the water, trying to avoid the sudsy cleaning frenzy, making a beeline to the picnic hamper.

Later, as Minerva walked down the bank to check on the children, she found herself facing a tower of giant-shaped foam that smelled strongly of lemons with a twist of orange and lime— and just a smattering of kelp.

" _Hagrid?"_ Minerva greeted, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Yes'm?" Hagrid answered, spitting out a mouthful of soap suds.

"What in— what on _earth_ happened to you?" Minerva's shoulders were quaking in suppressed mirth, but she worked hard to hold it together for the sake of propriety.

"I'm not quite sure ma'am, but I think the squid thought I needed a little… something," Hagrid replied.

The squid chose that time to dump a large bucket of water all over Hagrid, rinsing off the suds off before disappearing into the depths of Black Lake.

"I'm, uh, going to get meself a fresh change of clothes," Hagrid said awkwardly, trundling off to his hut.

Minerva rubbed her ear. "I think that's the freshest smelling I've ever associated with Hagrid," she said not to anyone in particular.

" _ **EAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

A shockingly loud male scream came from up the hill.

Minerva and the students went running full tilt up the path, keeping pace with Minerva as she blazed a trail like her feet were on fire.

" _ **Me hut!"**_ Hagrid wailed. " _ **What happened to me beautiful hut?!"**_

Hagrid prostrated himself in front of what should have been his hut, but the hut had undergone a strange and dramatic transformation.

The window glass was clear as crystal, the stones were all freshly grouted and reset to be perfectly even, the fences were repaired and repainted, and the door was standing wide open. Inside, the furniture was glistening with lemon-scented polish, the rubbish had been removed, the broken baskets that Hagrid had been meaning to fix but never got around to it were repaired and hanging in neat clusters, the curtains were cleaned and repaired, the books that no one realised he had were neatly shelved on bookcases no one knew he had either—

His large bed was restuffed with the quilts washed so thoroughly that the colours stood out brightly again. The mantle above the enormous hearth was decorated in candles with their wicks trimmed and old wax removed. The huge pile of ash in the hearth was gone. There were rugs on the floor, and they no longer looked like well-used Muggle mudflaps.

And Fang was blissfully curled up in a large dog bed that had mysteriously appeared in the midst of the chaos of cleanliness, all four legs up in the air and toes curled as he let out a happy canine moan of pure pleasure.

A trail of purple-spotted spiders skittered by Hagrid, unnoticed.

" _Job's done!"_

" _Phew!"_

" _We found the floor!"_

" _We found the ceiling!"_

" _We found the door!"_

" _Did you know there were five cats living in there?"_

" _And a hedgehog."_

" _And an entire seventeen generations of rodents."_

" _They didn't like the lemon-scented cleaner though."_

" _They left."_

" _We repaired the door."_

" _And the roof."_

" _And the cracks in the windows."_

" _We're going to go take a nap now."_

" _Goodnight!"_

" _Yup, later!"_

" _I'm going to sleep for a week."_

" _Oh, and we found a house-elf buried under a pile of moth-eaten blankets."_

Minerva watched the trail of spiders skittering back up towards Hogwarts. "I think Albus needs to see this to believe it."

* * *

Albus stood on the path to Hagrid's hut and admired the well-polished lanterns that lit the way to the building. It had been a very long time since the lanterns had been lit— or even found for that matter. The paddocks were now properly repaired, the garden wall was no longer a crumbling ruin, and he could no longer smell the inside of Hagrid's hut the moment he stepped out of the castle.

Many of the faculty said that Hagrid surely had to come inside Hogwarts to get fresh air rather than the opposite. Some of them had come to habitually cast air freshening charms whenever the half-giant sat near them at the Head Table. Albus, however, had tried to come up with a gentle way of telling the well-meaning half-giant that he really should bathe more than once a month and that the smell of hippogriff and wet dog was not something that everyone enjoyed.

Smiling to himself, he waved his wand surreptitiously to add a few extra "reinforcements" to the miraculous cleanliness that had blessed the hut— self-repair and self-cleaning charms, dust and mud-repellant, and a clever shoes-at-the-door charm that his own mother had been fond of.

Now that you could actually _see_ the floor, he rather wanted to keep it that way. Even Fang seemed so much happier. He definitely smelled better.

"Hagrid, my dear friend," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I truly love what you've done with the place. Shall we share a nice brandy to celebrate?"

Hagrid immediately burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Yes? Excellent," Albus said, waving his hand to summon the bottle of Muggle brandy and a pair of snifters. "I, for one, will sleep a little better knowing that your place is so much more conducive to your health, old friend. No more mice nesting in your beard when you wake up."

Hagrid continued to wail loudly as though Albus had taken away his pet dragonet (again).

Albus sipped his brandy and wore an utterly serene look on his face as though he was listening to the symphony orchestra. The smile tugged at his lips as his blue eyes twinkled— extra mischievously.

* * *

Severus woke to a spider on his face.

It was a cute and adorable, fluffy spider, but it was still a spider.

"Hrmph."

The spider jumped up into the air, startled and scurried off into the dimness of the room, leaving a trail of silk behind it to mark where it had jumped off him and the bed to escape.

Rumours of Albus' drinking celebration in the wake of Hagrid's newly spider-cleaned hut had travelled far and wide, and just about everyone, staff included—hell, even the elves—were celebrating.

Pixie, the unfortunate house-elf that had been pinned under a pile of rubble and lost for months, had been so thoroughly buried that she hadn't been able to elf-Apparate out of there. All the other elves didn't even think to check Hagrid's place and they had made some sort of solemn oath never to go there long before then. Pixie, however, had taken it upon herself to try and help out, and it hadn't ended well for her. Poppy was doing her best to nurse the emaciated house-elf back to whatever house-elf normal was. She had said it was a good thing house-elves survive half on magic and only little if any food.

As Snape grunted, pulling on some fresh robes and wandering into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he tripped.

As he pulled himself off the bedroom carpet, he found one small strand of silk had curls around his foot and caused his literal downfall.

Snape's shoulders shook, and he belted out laughter, causing his apprentice to burst in on him to check if he was having a fit or some sort of insanity potion gone wrong— or all too right.

"Master?!" Hermione cried. "Are you okay?"

Snape uncurled the silk from his foot and collected it, following it to where the spider had cut it off somewhere near the doorway.

"I'm fine," he said, collecting himself. "But this—" he chuckled again. "This stuff is gold."

Hermione eyed it critically. "But, it's just a silk thread, Master."

Snape smiled smugly. "Not just _any_ silk, Apprentice. It is super strong spider silk."

"Erm, okay?" Hermione said, working on how that was cause for her Master to be laughing so out of character in the middle of his bedroom floor.

Snape gestured for her to come closer, and Hermione did so, still wearing a completely puzzled expression.

"You recall how our mutual friend, Alastor, plays the violin, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "He's amazing."

Snape snorted softly. "I see he's charmed you as well."

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, looking a lot like a certain Snape. "He's good."

"I do not question it," Severus said. "But if you have ever seen him get really into his playing, you'll notice he de-hairs his bow strings."

"The last one bonked Amelia on the nose."

Snape turned to stare at Hermione.

"It was hilarious!" Hermione confessed.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Anyway a small in-house project has been circulating ever since we first found out he was playing gigs at a Muggle pub. We are trying to get him to play for us, and he made the mistake of saying—" Snape cleared his throat. "'When ye can die me a bow 'tha dosnae snap th'strings when I'm pla'in a Scottish temper, then I'll play in front ay a crowd'."

Hermione stared at Snape in wonder, taking in his accent— or rather Moody's strong Scottish lilt. "So you want to make him a bow that doesn't snap strings?"

Severus nodded. "I just tripped over one strand of spider silk on the way to the bathroom. One single strand. If our spider friends could string this bow, we could see if the challenge has been met, hrm?"

Purple-spotted spiders popped up between the head-snakes, curious as cats. " _We could do that."_

" _Yes."_

" _This could be fun!"_

Snape placed the empty bow down on the table. "This here is the tension screw that pulls the fibers, usually made of horsehair, unicorn hair for the more exotic witch or wizard, or thestral hair for billionaires. Each has their own quirks. Unicorn hair bows make for epic, bright sound. Thestrals make for sorrowful, mournful tones. They tried mermaid hair, and it made wet, squeaking sounds that no one liked."

Hermione frowned. "You have no idea what this will sound like."

Severus shook his head. "No. But, I am willing to see if we can succeed where other Unspeakables have failed."

"How long have you all been trying?" Hermione asked.

Snape sighed. "About as long as you have been alive."

Hermione's eyes widened and she whispered onto one of the spiders. It perked and had a conference with the other spiders. Then, they all bounced off her head and landed on the bow, setting to work.

Hermione nudged her master. "Maybe we should start a new class. In, um, spider-crafting."

Snape snorted. "I think we'll just keep this to ourselves for now. We can't tell people all of our secrets."

Hermione grinned and then went back to watching the busy spiders dutifully putting their skills to work.

* * *

Winter blew in like the cruel mistress it tended to be, covering everything in a coat of ice and snow so thick that even the giant squid had resorted to hiding itself away deep in Black Lake's more briney murk. January ninth came in under about twenty feet of snow that had blown in from the sea and dumped right on top of Hogwarts, making the celebrating of Severus' Snape's birthday a somber affair at the Department of Mysteries.

Fortunately for the DoM, nothing involving Unspeakable celebrations was ever small. The bakers brought in a large storm cloud-shaped birthday cake with Snape's favourite dark chocolate cake buried under a mountain of rich buttercream frosting, and the decorations were performing a duel with each other as the cake was sliced. In a perfect act of Slytherin-Unspeakable cunning, when Alastor stated he hadn't had time to get him a gift this year, Severus had given him the gift of the bow explaining "he could make it up to him."

Moody had called it reverse-birthday-gift trickery, and Snape hadn't exactly denied it one bit. Alastor had tried his level best that night to play the bow into submission, but unfortunately (or fortunately) the spider silk accepted the rosin and played like a dream, making Moody's fiddling the talk of the DoM.

And there were about fifty orders for custom-made spider-silk bows on the books. Thankfully, the spiders worked for belly rubs and cuddles and were more than happy to oblige without arrogance or demands. A few intrepid magi-arachnologists came up asking what they fed their spiders and if they had noticed if the diet had anything to do with the quality of the silk. Snape told them all about their diet knowing full well that the silk had to do with the happiness of the spider, and nothing made African Purple-Spotted Bouncing Spiders happier than Hermione Granger and her head full of spider-loving snakes.

He'd been raising the spiders for years and had never noticed the quality of silk in all of those years— the only thing that had changed was Hermione in the equation.

Let them _try_ and reproduce that, he thought. Heh.

The spiders had, he admitted, shown no inclination to show their talents until they found someone they wanted to impress, and while they dutifully allowed themselves to be "milked" for their venom as long as no one got too handsy with them and squeezed them too hard, they hadn't show the outright problem solving and desire to help as they did with Hermione. Somehow, the young Gorgon had charmed them and gained their loyalty as surely as she wanted to please him. That in itself was a humbling thought.

Hermione, thanks to a certain tabby cat that liked to stick her paws in everyone's business, told the young witch that Snape's birthday was coming up, and she had made him the first— well, second if you counted Minerva being her test victim— pair of silk basilisk socks made with the help of all of her friends, the attached and non. The spiders helped her weave the basilisk shed into an amazingly soft sock that could stand up to almost anything, but unlike dragonhide, was flexible and comfortable. And, if that wasn't practical enough, they put together a hippogriff down quilt with pictograms like those found on old Grecian vessels, mimicking the old red and black clay-fired vases. Each panel told a story or part of one, from the creation of the first spider by Athena to the forgiveness of the line that became the African Purple-Spotted Bouncing Spider— to the gifting of Medusa that she may never be harmed again. Chasing a spider along the seams was a certain silver tabby that showed up in quite a few places, much as she did in life.

Hermione had smiled as her master had taken the quilt and brought it up to his face to feel the fabric and take in its scent, a tug of a smile on his lips.

"Thank you," Snape had said warmly, and that was all Hermione needed.

* * *

Weeks passed, and the closest holiday closed in: Burns Night.

In celebration of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns, the planning of the Burns Supper had the houses buzzing with crafts and activities. Professor Flitwick had the choir singing Auld Lang Syne, and Minerva was teaching the house-elves to "cook properly instead of that other slop."

Hermione helped the house-elves hang sparkling blue and white flakes of snow on a strand of spider silk with the help of her ever-so-happy-to-help entourage of bouncing spiders. Minerva had approved of the colours of Scotland mirrored in the flakes.

Hagrid had found out that for some inexplicable reason, he was welcome at the Head Table with a little more enthusiasm. He blamed it on the lack of chicken blood from feeding "well, from feedin' Fl— ah, shouldna said tha'. Well, feeding the animals, ya know."

Hermione had perked at the slip, and Snape and Minerva had quickly switched the conversation over to talk of postponing the Sorting for the second year, allowing incoming students to be in a united Hogwarts House until they got their bearings. Their hope was that in fostering friendships in their first year that they would be less likely to consider changes in house as making someone their "enemy" and instead "their friends in another house." There was also talk about allowing all current students, if they wanted to, to be Sorted again with the justification that it took a child some time and work to become what they would most likely always be. The discussion went well into the end of dinner with far more for than against— those against being more about tradition than practicality. Safety, however, was the key to the slant towards the change. Tradition was getting children hurt by clinging to the tenacious belief that "if you aren't with us, you're against us." Changes _had_ to be made, or children would continue to be hurt.

Hermione had a lot of questions about Hagrid and most of them were currently unanswerable. Hagrid was a bit of an exception to every rule. Stories about him were highly contradictory, and she wasn't sure whether to sympathise or be wary of him.

Her more Slytherin mind-voice told her to be wary. Could she be wary and sympathise? Hermione had _no_ idea. She was trying really hard to manage both for lack of any significant reason to avoid him as of yet. But at least now the poor hygiene issue was taken care of. As the apprentice at the table it was her job to " accidentally" spill things on him that just happened to have been laced with a heavy-duty odor dampening potion. Hagrid surely thought she was the clumsiest chit on earth, even worse than Sybill Trelawney.

Personally, Hermione thought Sybill Trelawney was the very worst person to be compared to, so she hoped her name didn't come up in the same breath as that bug-eyed witch who really used any (and she _did_ mean any) excuse to touch her master's butt.

Hermione shuddered.

She was his apprentice, and she hardly understood the fascination. Maybe it was some sort of adult— thing.

Some really _odd_ adult thing.

Trelawney had once claimed that her vision was cloudy and the only way she could tune into it was to fondle Snape's bum. Her master had, of course, stepped out of the way of the arse-seeking witch, allowing her to fall into the very long tentacles of the giant squid— where she proceeded to snog the squid like it was a long-lost lover. Many traumatised children later (not to mention the poor squid itself) Trelawney was taken to the infirmary to treat the numerous dark purple suckermarks on her own bum.

Hermione's lesson for that evening was how to dodge highly intoxicated people without getting vomitus all over yourself. Words and lessons for life, as far as Hermione was concerned. Anything that kept her free from icky vomit was more than okay with her. The lesson for the sober-up potion was after all, as Snape taught ther that no matter how hard you tried, eventually someone would be drunk around her that she needed to be sobered up in a hurry.

It wasn't one of her more exciting lessons, but she did have to admit it was quite practical. He had taught her how to add drops to alcohol to take out all of the alcohol content as well as neutralise any drugs that might have been added to it— that had been a fun one and useful for accepting drinks in places you didn't trust the person or the drink.

Poison really wasn't a problem for her, but why risk it when you didn't have to? The only side effect he hadn't been able to counter was that if there were toxins or drugs in the drink, it coagulated into a large, bottle-trapped, red-capped lionhead goldfish, which was probably why it wasn't terribly popular outside of other Potions masters— then again. If you had an aquarium of goldfish back home, one might wonder if it was worth dating at all.

Snape had given her a alchemist's finger gauntlet for Christmas— a goblin silver shield for her index finger that also doubled as a delivery system for potions. In ancient times, alchemists would wear the good one on the right hand and the poisonous one on the left, but she used hers to carry doses of the drink-detection potion. All she had to do was slip her fingertip into the rim of the drink and one drop of the potion would dispense. She had tested it, of course, filling an aquarium with red-capped lionhead goldfish until she was convinced it wasn't a fluke.

Lord Malfoy had shown her some interesting techniques that many purebloods learned from an early age— poisoning each other had apparently become an outright social trend and for some time now. It made her very glad she didn't live back then.

Besides, if she really wanted to poison someone, gosh, wherever could she get some poison? Gabby the Gaboon viper peered at her from above, making an upside down serpent face of curiosity. Hermione had smiled back, giving the viper a tender kiss.

Now, if she could just keep Rose and Penny out of the jelly blocks and the marshmallow fruit salad— people would stop looking at her like she wanted to dip her hair in food all of the time.

Hermione sighed. That would be like asking Chicka to not strike at anything and everything that moved around her.

You could lead a snake to water but—

Hermione thumped her head against the High Table, already feeling Jig sticking his head in the cream. There were bagpipes playing from the sidelines, played with actual bagpipers, and she tried to focus on the music instead of the fact her head-snakes were sampling the food without her.

Dumbledore stood up and walked up to the podium, clearing his throat as the place got quiet. "Good evening, my friends, children. Good evening," he greeted. "Today, we have a very special night planned, but before we continue we must, as tradition demands, say grace."

" _Some hae meat an canna eat,_

 _And some was eat that want it;_

 _But we he meat, and we can eat,_

 _And sae the Lord be thankit."_

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Soup starts off our course this evening. Be sure to enjoy the cock-a-leekie and cullen skink, as it comes from a family recipe we have been blessed to have shared with us."

Dumbledore sat down as the elves popped in, opening the lids to the large soup kettles before disappearing. As conversation began again in earnest, Dumbledore stood again. "If everyone could please stand while the haggis is brought in," Dumbledore requested.

The pipers began to play " _The Star O'Robbie Burns"_ and as that faded, Alastor Moody walked through the Great Hall, right down the center.

" _Fair fa'your honest, sonsie face,_

 _Great chieftain o'the puddin-race!_

 _Aboon them a'ye tak your place,_

 _Painch, tripe, or thairm._

 _Weel are ye wordy o'a grace_

 _As lang's my airm._

Hermione listened as Alastor continued, but she admitted to herself that she loved to listen to his lilt far more than the words he was actually saying. Alastor was deep into it on this night, this night that was all Scot. The poem itself was epic, and Minerva had shared it with her on a few occasions in between teaching how to make a proper haggis and the custom of piping in the haggis on Burn's night. As Minerva's new daughter, it was her job to teach her how to be a proper McGonagall, so even when she wasn't learning potions, she was always learning something.

Alastor had drawn his knife and made to sharpen it as he continued reciting the poem, causing the children to gasp as if they were at a parade when the men wielding scimitars came around, twirling them like batons.

" _Ye Pow'rs wha make mankind your care,_

 _And dish them out their bill o'fare,_

 _Auld Scotland wants ne skinkin ware,_

 _That jaups in luggies;_

 _But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,_

 _Gie her a haggis!_

With that, Alastor made a gesture with his knife and all the table haggis' split down the center from end to end, causing all the children to cheer. Alastor smiled as his "knife" transformed back into his wand, and he tucked it away. The neeps and tatties were passed around as the children took some of the haggis. Some of them looked a bit dubious as to the edible nature of the haggis, but when watching the head table eat it without hesitation, many closed their eyes and thought of England only to find out they liked it far better than they expected.

Moody was honoured as a guest to the Head Table, and Dumbledore served him personally, giving a toast to his guest and the haggis. Dumbledore made the comment that he hadn't really expected the haggis to go over so well, but both Moody and Minerva scoffed at him, reminding him that Hogwarts was in Scotland, and no man, woman, or child would dare disgrace the haggis "here of all places."

Once the food had been enthusiastically devoured, Dumbledore made his way to the podium again. He spread his arms wide. "Today we have a first, and something that I think will be a real treat for us here at Hogwarts. To celebrate the end of our Burn's Night Supper, our honoured guest will treat us to the very first showing of his talent with the fiddle. Please, help me welcome our friend, Auror Moody, as he shows us that just because you catch Dark Wizards doesn't mean you don't have other talents."

Dumbledore clapped, and the Head Table clapped with him. The children seemed a little dubious, clapping half-heartedly.

But the moment the first sliding notes came off Alastor's violin. Had the children expected something more boring or something from a guy sitting down with music in front of him, all doubts went flying out the Great Hall in a whoosh of magic and music.

His bow flew across the strings so fast that it was hard to tell where his hand was. His fingers went up and down the board— up and down, up and down, to a placement that seemed to known only to him. The ghosts danced to the music, gliding across the Great Hall to the reels, and the notes—

Hermione's head-snakes swayed back and forth in musical celebration, and she wasn't alone. People were stomping their feet to the beat, others clapped, and some even got up and danced. Even Peeves hovered motionless in the rafters, a strange expression of peace having wiped the normally malicious look right off his face. Socrates and Zanique bobbed their heads in appreciation, doing their own serpentine dance while remaining around Hermione's neck.

The stars seemed to come down from the ceiling and dance with them, and they swirled around the Great Hall, filling it with the depths of space made tangible. One song flowed into another and another as seamless as the meeting of water. By the time the music had stopped, it was like the entire hall had held its breath just before the thundering applause filled in the silence.

Auror Moody gave a slight bow, emotion choking him up as the music had moved him to somewhere both deep inside himself and so far away. As he put his fiddle away into its case and strapped his bow lovingly into the top, a small purple-spotted spider bounced up and down on the lid of his case. He scooped the arachnid up with a smile. He gently pressed his lips to the spider's furry back, and the spider ran around in his hand in an excited circle before hugging his thumb with its forelegs. "Thanks, ye wee thing," he said with a smile.

The spider cooed softly and spronged off Moody's hand to scurry across the table and up Hermione's arm to hide in her "hair".

Snape gave Moody a brief nod before turning his head away in a disturbingly convincing scowl of disgust. Alastor gave Hermione a wink just before he snarled at Snape, calling him a disgrace of a teacher for Hogwarts.

But whatever tension may have come with their feigned animosity, it disappeared as conversations shifted to ask Moody where he had been hiding all of that talent that no one had even suspected him of.

* * *

Hermione yawned as her head-serpents echoed her sentiment. After listening to her master and Alastor yell at each other in public, he had come in to spend the night with them, yelling old Scottish stories and how he'd grown up. Hermione was all ears and snake heads, and Snape had allowed Draco to sneak in and listen too. Pansy tailed him like the Slytherin she was, and she spend the rest of the night on the carpet with Draco, soaking in the old Auror's tales with greedy fascination.

Hermione had too, but she had to finish up the brewing of the Caduceus Elixir for the next in line for testing out treatments on the last chance list. A few emergencies had her scrambling, not out of obligation, but the knowledge that there were people out there literally in their last moments that could be saved by the potion.

Could be, she warned herself. Just because it hadn't not worked yet didn't mean it couldn't backfire. The potion could be like her countenance, dangerous even when hidden under the cover of something innocuous.

The Head Boy came in to report that Pansy and Draco were not in their beds, and two sheepishly left Snape's quarters after he gave them the obligatory cover snarl that they better not do whatever the hell they did again. Or else. It must have worked, Hermione figured, as the Head Boy looked sympathetic to the pair's tongue lashing. It made her glad to know that her life was blissfully uncomplicated when it came to sleeping arrangements. There were three places she could be: in her quarters, with McGonagall, or with the centaurs. Okay, four. She could bunk down at the DoM, but that was decidedly more rare and only happened when Snape had to leave on some task and Minerva and the centaur were busy all at the same time. Not impossible, she figured, but not often.

As it was, she trusted her master in a way she felt safe. That safety was, if she admitted to herself, something rare after trying to come to terms that her parents would just—give her up.

She'd finally accepted that acknowledging that your daughter was a mythical monster that could literally stone people to death was probably a bit much to take in, even for an understanding family. She also accepted that she was lucky she had those that were willing to.

Mal and Border peered at her, tongue flicking, and she smiled, drawing the coral snakes close to her face and closing her eyes. The two coral snakes yawned meaningfully at her, reminding her that sleep was not just for the weak.

"You going to be able to handle working with Remus Lupin come next term, Severus?" Moody asked, causing Hermione to blink blearily from her warm cocoon of blankets by the fire.

"Must I?" Snape answered with a weary sigh.

"Dumbledore wants him in to replace Quirrell, as I understand it," Moody said.

"Fan- _tastic_ ," Severus replied, rubbing his nose. "As long as he doesn't attempt to pick up where he left off, I am willing to tolerate him, Alastor."

"Of all of them, Severus, he was the one with the least amount of issues."

"Save one really big one."

Alastor scratched his head. "Yeah, the furry little problem. Maybe you could _try_ making peace with him?"

"What? Want me to greet him with open arms and a bottle of flea dip?"

"Severus."

Snape grunted.

"You know he didn't _mean_ to try and kill you. Those other idiots, well, that's a different story."

Severus sighed. "I know, Alastor. But you know that I've been subjected to more than just a little slice of hell at the hands of his cretinous 'friends'— friends that he would rather stand by in solidarity instead of being a man and telling the truth.

Alastor sighed and shook his head. "I know, old friend. I do."

"At least I am fairly certain Lupin is not a Death Eater."

Moody harrumphed. "Only fairly certain."

"There is the Fenrir Greyback issue. There is no telling what kind of loyalty he can't help." Snape's frown made his lips form into a straight line.

"I'll do my best, Alastor," Severus said after a long silence.

"That's all we can ask." Moody said. "At least you have a few months to prepare yourself."

"If he starts peeing in the corners of the school, I'm taking Miss Granger's mask off and telling her to give him a big hug."

Moody snorted. "Pass the scotch, ya ornery walkin' stormcloud."

"One more and I'm cutting you off," Snape said.

"Psh," Moody muttered. "Don't be a party pooper, Sheverush."

"Apprentice."

"Yes, Master?"

"Do roll out the guest cot, hrm?"

"Yes, Master!"

Hermione scurried to the cupboard and pulled out the miniature bed and set it down on the floor, scooting the couch over. She tapped the bed with her wand, and it expanded into a larger bed sized for an adult, complete with linens and pillows. She pulled out a warm quilt from the cupboard as well, flinging it out and over the linens, and then set up the folding privacy screens to give the intoxicated Auror some protection from the casual glance or the two a.m. spider or basilisk.

By the time Snape had finished putting the groggy ol' Scot to bed, Hermione had fallen asleep on the couch. Severus gathered her up as her sleepy head-snakes yawn-nibbled on his fingers, and he carried her to her quarters. He tucked her into her bed as Socrates and Zanique curled around her like a living nest. He placed the pillow under her head, tucking her head-snakes around so they didn't get pinched and pulled the blanket over her, a tug of a smile on his face as the purple-spotted bouncing spiders filled in all the spaces and cuddled with their unlikely mistress.

"Good night, apprentice," he said softly, blew out the candle, and swept from the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

 **A/N** : I'm craving Cinnabons. There will be no more chapters until I get one!

Spiders: _rut-roh! Emergency situation! *scurries off to fetch Cinnabons*_


End file.
